《Depths of Promises Sworn》


 Chapter 1 - An Unwanted Prince

    By order of the Vylian Castellan, forever may she reign.


    Prince Ayre - Fourteenth of Her Unholiness''s Brood, has been dispatched to one of your groves for the purposes of completing a binding ritual to the Lunarian Seed Seers Cerya Waning-Moon and Theriya Frost-Crescent within no less than a ten-moon. It has already been impressed upon the Prince that the expectation will be to remain within your borders for the foreseeable future.


    Take it as a token of good faith that Lunarian interests remain aligned with the Castellan''s.


    As communicated in prior correspondence, the Prince will be accompanied by Astraea Wyrmsbane. The Castellan deems this more than adequate to protect our mutual interests in the production of Moon Wrought implements for our needs. The Third Sister and I eagerly await your arrival so that the pact between our nations can be properly renewed.


    Faithfully yours until the thrones of old are bled dry and our vile moon is satiated,


    Morganth - Second of Her Unholiness''s Brood.


    <h2 style="text-align: center">Arc 1 - Everything to Prove</h2>


    Prince Ayre


    A pair of lilac horns a shade darker than the rest of her flesh signals the arrival of my fierce protector. My newly Sworn Blade Astraea takes an extra moment to incline her head on account of the carriage¡¯s low ceiling.


    There is no escaping the forest¡¯s humid warmth, but Astraea always brings with her the perfumed scent of some faraway flower. Both are a change from the mountain range I have been confined within at the Castellan''s bidding.


    Astraea makes it a point to shut and bolt the door behind her.


    Admittedly there is no telling how capable our vulpine carriage driver is of listening in. So Astraea and I have been treating this space as merely resembling privacy.


    There is unfortunately no hiding the discomfort of the carriage. With each vile moon that passes, I liken the confines of our transport to that of another cage.


    Whenever Astraea and I speak of serious matters, we layer our meaning in stories and anecdotes. But after a few moons shy of our ten moon time limit, I am running out of patience for subtlety.


    ¡°At least the cells in the Castellan¡¯s dungeons did not pretend to be comfortable.¡± I say, drumming my fingers against an arm rest.


    Astraea offers a toothless smile before closing a clawed hand over her heart in salute. ¡°I am pleased to report that we are on track to arrive at our destination before moonrise.¡±


    Finally, some good news. A whole three moons ahead of schedule, even. I suppose that is a point in favor of our driver¡¯s otherwise dreadful carriage.


    Nevertheless, I find myself suppressing the ever present urge to order Astraea to tear out the carriage¡¯s cushions. Instead, I elect to change the topic. ¡°Are my blood dolls enjoying themselves riding out front with our magnanimous driver?¡±


    ¡°Very much so.¡± Astraea reports. ¡°Fia has resumed attempts to sketch each new animal she sees while Selescia continues to remind her to eat and sleep when it is appropriate. Our driver has been amusing herself by answering their many questions about the world outside the mountain castle.¡± Astraea¡¯s words continue to have this alarming quality of cutting through my dour mood.


    ¡°How endearing.¡± I say, even managing a smile of my own. ¡°It is a shame the roads are dangerous enough that we could not take our time.¡± I would have liked the opportunity to properly indulge Fia''s curiosity and offer Selescia a well deserved break.


    Astraea gives me a look. ¡°This is your first time leaving the castle¡¯s shadow. Not all the world is as dreary as Vylia.¡±


    On impulse, I deflect. ¡°You¡¯ve still never told me where you came from.¡±


    Astraea''s eyes drift towards the window. ¡°You would not believe me if I told you.¡± Her voice however, turns wistful.


    She could never afford an honest reaction like that, at least not within the Castellan¡¯s domain.


    I narrow my eyes, but swallow my urge to voice frustration with her answer. This is the first time I have seen Astraea express vulnerability.


    Any show of weakness is normally something that Vylian nobility would be expected to ruthlessly catalog and exploit.


    But I am not my siblings.


    Do I push? Is it okay for me to ask about this?


    I should know better. As fourteenth of the Castellan¡¯s twenty broodlings allowed to wield the power and privilege, I¡¯m not exactly enthusiastic about elaborating on what I had to do to earn my place.


    With Astraea¡¯s lilac skin, twisted horns, and sharp carnivorous teeth, it is not like she is any less a monster than my siblings and I. She may only be a full head taller than me, but I can¡¯t help but feel small in more ways than one when compared to my protector.


    Astraea¡¯s place among the Castellan¡¯s long list of employed specialists is a recent addition. Much excitement was expressed at court when Astraea Wyrmsbane presented herself with intent to bend the knee in service.


    Rather new to courtly functions, I failed to understand the implications of her title beyond not being able to get over that Astraea did not need to fight to deserve her place.


    What even is a wyrm?


    Why has no one so much as attempted to duel or assassinate her in order to test her skill?


    This is very unusual for how Vylia normally operates, but Astraea has proved to be a reliable advisor if nothing else.


    The thought of having to put up with nonstop family infighting before I earned my place leaves me balling my hands into fists and pressing them into my lap.


    I clear my throat, electing to be accommodating in my reply. ¡°Well. No matter where you come from, I¡¯m glad you¡¯re here.¡±


    The gentle weight of a hand comes to rest upon my shoulder as Astraea turns her attention back to me. ¡°Ayre, your bonding to the Seed Seers will not change the fact that I remain ever yours.¡±


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    I shift uncomfortably in my seat for a moment. Unsure how to verbally respond to that. I decide instead to lean into her hand as she continues. ¡°Things are still going to change though, right?¡±


    ¡°Only for the better.¡± She says with confidence.


    Dubious, I temper my response with hesitation. ¡°How do you know?¡±


    I am treated to a confident flexing of Astraea¡¯s clawed fingers, a fanged smile brimming with self assurance and¡­ well, something I haven¡¯t seen in a long time. Only in those braving the darkest of depths have I seen eyes glimmer like hers do in this moment.


    When next Astraea speaks, I recognize the hope in her words. ¡°My life only began to feel like my own once I escaped the shadows cast by my infamous parents.¡±


    Unable to correlate this hope with anything but foolishness, I hold my tongue.


    What am I supposed to say to that? That much of these woods still fall under the shadow of Castellan¡¯s mountain fortifications? Or the last time someone looked at me the way she is now, I tore out their throat for daring to think the depths were possible to escape?


    No.


    My late sister would never forgive me for being as cruel as the rest of my family.


    Unsure of what to make of her response, I decide instead to ask the most obvious question that occurs to me. ¡°Your parents didn¡¯t craft you to be perfect?¡± I mean, just look at her unnatural lilac skin, horns, and claws.


    Astraea surprises me by cackling aloud.


    ¡°Gales, no! I merely knocked anyone who claimed to be better than me back into their place.¡± Astraea¡¯s sudden burst of confidence reminds me how much of a delight it is to see another secure their place.


    It is momentarily comforting to know that she went through the same relentless proving of one¡¯s self that I have weathered.


    She continues. ¡°To answer your question, perfection didn¡¯t manifest until I figured out what it was that I wanted.¡±


    Yet again, I am not entirely sure what to make of her words. If I could kill my way to the top of the family tree, I wouldn¡¯t exactly need a bodyguard now would I? Pushing the dark thought off to the side, I offer my Sworn Blade a grin as I humor her.¡°I don¡¯t suppose there is any chance that what you wanted included having your every servant and bound beloved selected for you? Or maybe you really just wanted to wait on a detestable Vylian prince?¡±


    Astraea closes her eyes before taking a deep breath.


    When her words come, her voice is full of yearning again. ¡°Initially, I just wanted to protect the ones closest to me. I craved those moments of triumph and celebration after overcoming dire circumstances. For the longest time, it was enough for me to be relied upon.¡±


    I close my own eyes as her words remind me of similar circumstances surviving the depths that defined the crucible of my childhood. I find myself leaning against the crimson fabric of her short shoulder cape.


    Astraea continues. ¡°By the time I realized I craved the lasting company of another, she embraced the companionship of a friend of mine. It was only in her absence that I understood what it meant to be wanted for more than the purpose I was relied upon.¡±


    ¡°What happened?¡± I say. My voice surprises even me by sounding tender and gentle.


    ¡°Someone else realized what I saw in her before I could put it into words. But rather than contest it, I moved on.¡±


    Astraea¡¯s words sting enough that I find myself clinging to the folds of my own clothes. ¡°That¡¯s not fair.¡±


    Only to find myself confounded by Astraea responding with an easy smile.


    ¡°Funnily enough, I won over another three under the same circumstances I met the first. Eventually I started to really make something of myself. The stranger in my mirror kept gaining scars and trophies. I started answering to names given to me that fit better than anything my parents or I ever came up with.¡± Astraea pauses to laugh nostalgically, but it is her turn to be dismayed upon turning to see my reaction. ¡°Are you okay? Ayre?¡±


    I thought we were supposed to be speaking in metaphors or parables. When I clutch at my sides, it is because I am finding myself unable to respond to earnest advice directed at me.


    This is not how things are done. The strong claim what they want, as they always have. I can only have what I want if I remain useful to the Castellan and her empire.


    I shake my head. ¡°I¡­ find all of that hard to believe.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡± She says, as sure as she always manages. ¡°At the time, I did not agree with it either. But you¡¯d be surprised how much time can change where you stand.¡±


    Faced with the folly of arguing with someone far older and more storied, I decide to relent. ¡°Sorry. You can continue.¡±


    Her smile assures me that I have caused no lasting offense. ¡°One day my oldest friend, the one who whisked my first love away from me, asked if I would help her challenge my family. If they were ever going to seize the throne, no one expected them to be able to pull it off without me. My friends were great, but no three among our fleet was worth me alone in the arena.¡± Astraea trails off, her eyes searching for mine before continuing.


    Try as I might to hold her gaze, I find myself flinching at the idea of doing the same myself.


    How long have I pondered how best to manage it? How many nightmares and scars has it earned me? Is this something we should be speaking of in proximity to our carriage driver? Even if Astraea¡¯s story turns out to be more factual than allegorical?


    It is hard to even imagine what it would take to follow such an ordeal through.


    My voice is reduced to a whisper, hobbled by my own history with family. ¡°They didn¡¯t¡­ hurt you, did they?¡±


    ¡°No no.¡± Astraea says in a reassuring tone. ¡°I decided that this was not my fight. In the end, my friends succeeded on their own merits and we decided to ultimately part ways. The three girls bound to me continued to follow me the world over, to wherever our hearts led us. We had our disagreements. But no matter what came up, we decided that we preferred each other¡¯s company.¡±


    I chew on all of that for a time.


    Astraea has always struck me as well storied, but never old. If I were to take her story at face value, how long would I even be looking at?


    My few forays into the Castellan¡¯s library describes any number of long lived entities. But none match anything resembling Astraea¡¯s description. Could she have gone through some changes during her time?


    I could question how feasible it is to travel the world or not recognize one¡¯s self, but neither of these things bother me beyond the surface of her attempts to relate to me.


    Assuming I am not killed and replaced by another of my siblings, Lunarians and Vylian nobility share a long lived lifespan measured in the hundreds of eclipses. Binding myself to another is a matter that will span an uncomfortable length of time.


    I can¡¯t help but feel like Astraea is trying to share her own history in an effort to comfort me over never being offered a choice in the matter of binding myself to two Lunarian Seed Seers. But to what end? What interest of her own could she possibly have in smoothing out the life that has been arranged for me?


    None of this is even core to the larger negotiations occurring elsewhere. As far as I¡¯m aware, we are just being sent out to serve as long term stewards to prevent further problems.


    Am I overthinking this? Or is Astraea merely a useful outsider? If she was hired to kill me, there would have been any number of opportunities to do so for my siblings¡¯ gain before now. That she is here now, working towards my comfort and happiness just doesn¡¯t make sense. Who would stand to gain investing time, effort, and resources to protect any of my mother¡¯s children below the top ten who are actually entrusted with running the empire?


    ¡°When put like that, this arrangement almost seems enviable.¡± I finally say, my eyes wandering away from her and to the outside window of the carriage. ¡°I don¡¯t know what these Lunarians will be like, but they have been our allies for as long as my mother¡¯s empire has existed. Maybe you¡¯re right, and this will be a fresh start for me.¡±


    ¡°It is good to hear you looking on the bright side.¡± Astraea says.


    Circling back to Astraea¡¯s story, I want to ask what happened to the three who bound themselves to her.


    Where are her three bound beloved now?


    Why is Astraea with me and not with them?


    What is it that would lead to Astraea falling back on the role of being someone else¡¯s reliable sword arm again?


    And I cannot forget wanting to know more about the one who first got away from her? How much insight could I gain from someone who knew Astraea in her youth?


    But there is never enough time to communicate all the things it feels like we need to.


    Our carriage comes to an abrupt stop.


    Without thinking, Astraea¡¯s arm snaps across my chest to hold me in place.


    Despite being a sudden reaction, Astraea''s grip on me remains a surprisingly gentle one. Her hand does not linger a moment more than is necessary.


    Normally I can''t stand being touched. But Astraea figured that out in the early days. Little moments like that have been adding up alongside this conversation.


    I want so desperately to trust her, but such arrangements have never lasted. Not for me.


    Still, I feel I should do more than just thank her.


    If I allow myself to assume for a moment that she is trustworthy, Astraea is probably who I needed most to fill the role of my Sworn Blade. "I suspect you are going to prove irreplaceable, Astraea.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡± She says, once more adopting that confident mask, and not a moment too soon.


    Our illusion of privacy is broken as the carriage door opens to reveal our white furred guide. ¡°Right this way, young Princeling. Your new home awaits.¡±

 Chapter 2 – Fourteenth of her Unholy Brood

    Ayre


    Grimacing from the day¡¯s ride, I accept the offered hand and make it a point to ignore the vulpine grin as I step out from the cart. It takes a few moments to adjust to standing on solid ground again. ¡°Thank you. Amari, if I remember correctly?¡±


    Amari bows low, her tail even managing to not look out of place in a gesture that should be foreign to her. ¡°It flatters me to have my name remembered despite the brevity of our interactions. The pleasure of having served is all mine, young Princeling.¡±


    I decide I don¡¯t like the way she is exaggerating her every formality, but try not to hold it against her. There are far too many of my siblings who would be delighted to hire help that spends half as much time fussing over decorum and presentation as Amari does.


    My armored protector follows behind me, exchanging hardly more than a glance with Amari.


    Unlike me, the two of them are dressed practically according to their vocations.


    Astraea stands resolute in her parade armor. Black gemstone plating combines with loose crimson fabrics. The half cape and other fabrics are all short enough to not get in the way, but long enough to look stunning when a breeze passes through. Or at least I think so.


    Her lilac skin and horns are unusual pairings to my nation¡¯s colors. But so far this has only ever come up as a novelty throughout her accompanying me as my protector.


    The white furred Amari on the other hand is associated with nothing but trouble. Shrewd to a fault in conducting herself as a merchant, she is currently adorning herself in a many-layered outfit seemingly chosen to maximize the number of pouches and space for belts.


    It is not that Amari has done anything wrong so much as she is yet another example of how meticulous her long lived kind can be. If there is a way to put an age to her features, I am not aware of it.


    Being of a hardy seafaring folk separated from ours by salty expanses of water, Amari hails from a land that has never had to worry about being subjects of Vylian conquest.


    Noticing my stare, Amari¡¯s vulpine grin only grows. Her long snout makes it easy for stray smiles to come off as predatory.


    I am quick to avert my gaze, wondering what I should have expected from someone who takes an interest in trading for the spoils Vylia reaps.


    By comparison, I am wearing hardly more than black wrappings that bind my chest and legs. Atop that, a small crimson shawl emblazoned with the Vylian standard depicting bird talons crushing the blade of a sword. My dark breeches cut off at the boots. With an exposed midriff, arms, and back, I can¡¯t help but feel like a piece of meat to be shown off under Amari¡¯s gaze.


    As if sensing my insecurities, Amari verbally pounces. ¡°What is the matter, Princeling? Shall I offer you more presentable garments in which to greet your future lovers?¡±


    ¡°That won¡¯t be necessary, Amari.¡± I turn a good scowl on her before committing to approach the gate on foot.


    ¡°As you wish, young Princeling.¡± She says, letting the topic drop.


    My dolls remain perched at the carriage¡¯s front seat. I make sure to signal to Selescia that their presence is not needed at this time.


    Judging by the number of weapons carried by the curiously sharp eared Lunarian Watchers pouring out from a stone gate, I decide it is best that my dolls not factor into our first impressions.


    For some reason I do not imagine the masked utilitarian guards will appreciate the finely tailored dresses and artistic interests of my court assistants and blood dolls. Fia and Selescia are many things, but I would not expose them to even the potential for violence if I can help it.


    Whether the Watchers arranged to greet us are aware of it or not, I have been promised to a pair of Lunarian Seed Seers beyond those stone gates. The Castellan¡¯s will shall be carried out, regardless of how I might feel about the matter.


    It is finally time to see what kind of reception awaits us.


    Each Watcher is adorned in a mask that prominently depicts a gemstone eye. Despite there being otherwise no holes in the mask for vision, there is little doubt in my mind that their gemstones are keyed to provide an enhanced vision of some kind.


    In this instance, the gemstones work largely like my blood. Drain a population of something unneeded, focus it into those who watch for external threats. Where I might be more potent on an individual level, their masks are backed by an entire nation ensuring a steady supply of charged stones.


    For all I know, Watchers could be named such that anything beyond what is necessary to serve their role could be bled out of them. This could be all they are considered good for, which might make them irritable.


    I can relate to that much at least.


    Gemstones on the other hand are widely considered precious within the empire for their quality of being a container that is altered the slowest by the strong emotional resonance of what effects are stored within them. This allows them to remain reliable tools for longer. Astraea¡¯s armor wouldn¡¯t be cut from gemstones if it was going to mutate on her while she is wearing it.


    Each masked Watcher to step out from the gate is taller than the one that precedes them. They are quick to fall into a regimented formation of two rows in support of ten heavy bolt throwers.


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    I am¡­ not enthusiastic at the idea of having weapons crafted to fell oversized monsters pointed at me.


    Heedless to the weapons that would punch through her armor and the next person or two standing behind her, Astraea confidently takes the lead. ¡°Proud Lunarian Watchers, we mean you no harm. I, Astraea Wyrmsbane have merely come to escort my Noble charge Ayre - the Fourteenth of her Unholy Brood, into your care.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve not heard word of any such arrangement.¡± Comes a reply from one of the masked Watchers leveling weapons at us.


    I step forward, setting a hand on my protector¡¯s shoulder. ¡°I can handle this.¡±


    Astraea eyes the other hand I use to grip my chest with concern. ¡°Is that really necessary?¡±


    ¡°My mother¡¯s blood cannot be feigned.¡± I say, my voice devoid of any emotion on how I might feel about that fact. My fingers dig into the fabric of my chest wrap. Fingernails grinding against flesh stirs my heart into motion.


    I circle wide as I approach, demanding the oversized weapons trained on us to split their attention.


    ¡°That¡¯s far enough!¡± Cries a tall green haired Lunarian standing in the backline with a spear in a ready position. He gestures to a Watcher at his flank with a scaled gauntlet. ¡°Fetch a Grove Tender or one of the Seed Seers. If there was some miscommunication, I need to know.¡±


    Impatient to again be surrounded by the safety of walls, I bark out a rebuttal. ¡°That won¡¯t be necessary.¡± My voice deepens as my heart begins to race. ¡°Just shoot me if you¡¯re so concerned.¡±


    Thankfully, no one immediately follows me up on that offer. Losing a limb this early would be¡­ inconvenient.


    The referenced Watcher, with a light red hair coloration, follows orders by disappearing beyond the stone gates.


    I take it as motivation to continue. ¡°So long as you avoid the heart, there will be no reprisal for attempting to fell one of my mother¡¯s brood.¡±


    The green haired Lunarian¡¯s mask turns to me. ¡°Why have we not heard of your coming?¡±


    I muster up an affronted scoff. ¡°Because I was just the opening gift in an ongoing exchange between our betters. Frankly, I don¡¯t matter. What does, is that I know you¡¯ve been struggling to meet your Moon Wrought Implement and Gemstone quotas, have you not?¡±


    One of the Watchers utters a curse.


    A booming voice echoes out from behind the mask of the green haired one. ¡°Thorned Watchers, stand down! I¡¯ll verify this one personally.¡± The apparent Watcher in charge strides up to me, spear lowered but very distinctly leveled in my direction. ¡°Black sclera, pallid and sunken flesh. You¡¯re a Prince of something alright.¡±


    I offer the Watcher a view of my fangs. ¡°How kind of you to notice. I take it you¡¯re in charge?¡±


    ¡°Thorned Watcher, Second Seed.¡± The green haired Watcher¡¯s response is curt.


    ¡°Not in charge then.¡± I point out. ¡°Where is your First?¡±


    Green eyebrows furrow just above the mask. ¡°In the absence of a First Seed, I serve as the High Watcher. No one gets in or out without my saying so.¡±


    We stare at each other until it becomes clear that there is a distinct lack of any intent to let us in. Which is fair. Morganth would have promptly beheaded me for such a remark.


    Amari coughs in the background. From her lungs, it sounds almost like a warning bark.


    Right, time to be unpleasant then. ¡°Green hair, long misshapen ears, all artificial no doubt. Do they just let you have the job they created you for, or did you actually earn your place?¡±


    That gets an instant reaction in the form of a raised spear, poised to thrust at my heart. Aiming at anything less would be a lethal mistake on his part.


    His shouted words are immediate. ¡°Hold your tongue! I know what you are, depths-spawned wretch.¡±


    ¡°Oh good.¡± I say with a predatory purr. ¡°Then I¡¯ll have you know that I¡¯m enjoying my time here on the surface. While I recognize that you find the idea of my presence distasteful, you can trust that the feeling is growing to be mutual.¡±


    I do not leave him an opening to reply.


    My next words are hissed with all the venom I can muster for this conversation. I advance, the distance between the spear and my torso narrowing.


    ¡°I know about the production problems your lot are having. The Castellan needs this problem hunted down and slain just as much as you do.¡± My words earn me a hint of hesitation, so I press the advantage. ¡°Well? What is it going to be? Play along with the allied pieces on the board? Or do you want to be the one that convinces the Castellan that playing nice is too much trouble?¡±


    These Watchers greeted me and mine by leveling bolt throwers at us. I know they understand the language of threats and violence.


    But how will they respond to having those same threats turned back upon them by a representative of the Castellan¡¯s displeasure?


    Truth be told, this is my first time serving in such capacity. I can only speculate on the kind of effect my words will carry. Personally, I am hoping that this Watcher is more worried about his head rolling than mine.


    I only just secured exclusive rights to my own personal blood dolls and Sworn Blade by claiming a station above Fifteenth of the brood. Each and every one of my companions is someone I have grown quite fond of, Astraea included.


    All three would be wasted or ruined by my other siblings.


    A few more tense moments pass before the High Watcher sees reason.


    ¡°Thorns! By order of the Second Seed, open the gates!¡±


    Having gotten what I needed, I let any further harsh words on my part go in favor of something that recognizes the situation for what it is. "Thank you for accepting my presence as an uncomfortable compromise, High Watcher."


    Again those furrowed green eyebrows. When he speaks, his voice hardens to deliver a threat. ¡°Don¡¯t feed on my people, Seed Prince.¡±


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t dream of it.¡± I say as I step past him. ¡°My blood dolls are more than adequate to sustain my needs.¡±


    Astraea falls in step behind me while Amari guides the hulking cloth bound husks pulling her carriage through the now opened stone gate doors.


    The moment the doors have closed behind us, Astraea rests a gentle hand on my shoulder.


    I take that as my cue to allow myself to drop my guard. All at once my vision loses focus as the weight of drawing upon my bloodsucking parasite eases off my chest. The change in biological processes demands a few moments to steady my breathing.


    ¡°Hey. It¡¯s okay. It¡¯s over.¡± She says in an attempt at a calming voice, succeeding only in sounding far away.


    I shake away her hand so that I can writhe within my own flesh, free of any outside influence. Only once my vision clears do I turn to look up at Astraea.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± I declare.


    ¡°You¡¯re not.¡± Astraea says, her expression softening. ¡°Ayre. You are not the role forced upon you. I feel I must stress that you are more than what your station expects of you.¡±


    I freeze.


    Such words could never bring comfort. Not to a miserable wretch like me.


    The weight in my chest, normally unnoticeable when not called upon, suddenly becomes unbearable. It is an unwanted addition, a parasite, and a reminder¡­


    My life is not my own. Not entirely. I need only glance at my hands to remind myself that not all of me has made it this far.


    ¡°You¡¯re right.¡± I say, my voice cold and distant. ¡°I am not at the point where I can stand meeting the eye of the wretched creature you speak of that awaits me in the mirror.¡±


    In truth, I am only about half the Prince that I should be. The rest of me is grafted together from the remains of my sister, Lenore.


    All courtesy of the blood sucking parasite perched atop my heart that marks me as royalty.


    The how and why is not even for me to know. I know only that the specifics must remain a secret, even from Astraea. Instead I accept the cold comforts offered to me by the second woman to whom I owe my life, wary of what might happen should we become close.


    Astrea kneels at my side, her voice falling to a whisper. ¡°For the first time in your life, you are far from the watchful gaze of the Castellan, her Executioners, and your siblings. You are allowed to just¡­ not be fine.¡±


    I shake my head until I find that I cannot stop shaking in other places.


    It is better this way, I should think, that my love be sold to strangers to shore up an alliance.


    I made the mistake of loving a sibling once.


    Lenore deserved better.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine. Better than fine, really.¡± I say, lying through my teeth.

 Chapter 3 – Matters of Blood and Council

    Ayre


    ¡°If you say so, Princeling.¡± Amari has managed to pass us, and is now looking back with an unreadable expression.


    Curse that sensitive hearing of hers.


    ¡°Can you just¡­ stop calling me that?¡± I say, earning myself another one of Amari¡¯s predatory smiles.


    ¡°Would you prefer I use the terminology that the Lunarians have for Her Unholiness¡¯s Broodlings?¡± Amari asks, her tail curling with what I can only assume to be anticipation.


    I sigh. ¡°Why not? I might as well get used to it.¡±


    ¡°Very well. Seed Prince.¡± Amari says, drinking in my response with great delight.


    The Watcher and I exchanging bitter remarks is one thing. But I suddenly feel a renewed need to writhe with discomfort at the idea of these being the words that the Lunarians use to address me. Instead I turn to adopt an accusatory glare. ¡°Amari. Do you delight in being routinely frustrating to deal with?¡±


    The vulpine merchant bats her tail playfully. ¡°I pride myself on being helpful. It tends to pay well.¡± She holds up a hand. ¡°Better you lose your composure with me, whose silence can be bought with those¡­ deep pockets of yours.¡± She makes it a point to bat her eyelashes.


    Neither her choice of words or body language are lost on me, but the frustration I have remains unchanged. ¡°Astraea will see you are paid and lodged for the night. Your services are no longer needed.¡±


    ¡°A shame. And here I hoped to speed you along to your destination so that I might spend a few days advising you on how best to deal with the locals before one of your siblings caught up with¡­¡± Amari¡¯s sigh is as dramatic as her act is paper thin. ¡°Oh! But it seems I am no longer needed!¡±


    My frustration only grows at the thought of needing to indebt myself to this she-fox so quickly.


    ¡°Hold a moment. What do you know of my siblings?¡± I grind my teeth before continuing. ¡°That much is worth keeping you on retainer for at least another day.¡± I cut myself off before suggesting anything more.


    Amari¡¯s eyes immediately grow to the size of moons. ¡°How generous young Pri-¡± Amari touches her throat, feigning a cough to adjust her choice of words. ¡°Prudent and wise Ayre.¡±


    I gesture for her to get to the point.


    She mercifully does. ¡°Did you really think your siblings would let you bind yourself to foreign allies without meddling? Even if you are under orders to bind yourself so, I would not be surprised if two or more of your Brood arrive within a few moons to have a hand in how things play out.¡±


    Great.


    Wonderful.


    Now I really am going to threaten to tear out someone¡¯s throat.


    Not Amari¡¯s though, even if the carefree swaying of her tail suggests she is enjoying this exchange at my expense far too much.


    That her behavior is not a cruelty is something I have to remind myself of. Knowing that my siblings are going to waste no time in letting me adjust to a life outside the castle will help me avoid being caught by surprise.


    Now that I think about it, the Lunarian Watchers may not be the last I meet to have their ears and hearing augmented. I will need to be mindful in the future if I wish to avoid being overheard.


    Amari listening too closely into my conversations with Astraea will be overlooked until I decide how best to address the situation. But that sounds like a problem for tomorrow¡¯s Ayre.


    ¡°Thank you, Amari. This has been most helpful. Please, enjoy your accommodations. I will make time to indulge you tomorrow once I figure out where I stand with the Seed Seers.¡±


    ¡°Of course, Master Ayre.¡± She says, lowering herself into another one of those courtly bows while trying out the term of address that my dolls use with me.


    I glare at Amari. ¡°Ease off on the flattery and titles. You¡¯re too insightful to be subservient to me.¡±


    Amari¡¯s eyes glimmer with delight before she consents to being led away by Astraea.


    My blood dolls take that as their cue to dismount from their seat at the front of the carriage.


    ¡°Master Ayre!¡± Fia exclaims, taking me by one arm.


    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    I wince briefly enough that Fia misses it, too focused on the act of linking our arms together.


    But no details escapes Selescia¡¯s sharp gaze. ¡°Is something the matter, Ayre?¡±


    Before Fia can work herself up, I smile and gesture for Selescia to take her place at my other side. ¡°Not anymore. I was just briefly reminded of my sister is all.¡±


    There is only one sister that all three of us mourn.


    ¡°Oh.¡± Fia says gently. ¡°I miss her too.¡±


    Selescia tugs at my arm, which causes Fia to brighten up and do the same. It is only after we have begun to make our way to the tallest tree spire lodging in the settlement that Selescia goes into further detail. ¡°In her place, we are shortly to gain two other Mistresses, are we not?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I say, much to Fia¡¯s audible delight. ¡°They will not need to feed on you like I do. That much won¡¯t change at least.¡°


    ¡°Very well.¡± Selescia says, taking the news in stride. ¡°I trust you have not spent much of yourself during our travels?¡±


    A nod.


    ¡°Good.¡± Selescia continues. ¡°I am mostly recovered enough that I should be the only one needed to submit to you tonight. If such a need arises.¡±


    I want to shake my head, to assure Selescia that I intend to refrain from drawing upon their blood without reason. But none of us have so much as set a foot outside the castle in our lives. These past few moons of travel comprise the bulk of our experience of the outside world not shaped by the words of others.


    ¡°I know precious little about the Seed Seers or our situation.¡± I admit.


    ¡°Then you¡¯ll have need of your senses!¡± Fia chimes in, too excitedly for my taste.


    Selescia hums in thought. ¡°We trust you to draw upon what you think you will need.¡±


    ¡°Amari and Astraea got us this far.¡± I say. ¡°If I must again draw upon my wretched parasite, it will be to ensure that I secure us the most favorable circumstances to rest and recover until the day of the binding ceremony.¡±


    ¡°See?¡± Fia leans in front to catch Selescia¡¯s eye. ¡°Master has our best interests in mind!¡±


    Selescia and I continue to humor Fia in her addled state for a time. That she is willing and bubbly does not necessarily mean that she has entirely returned to her senses. To diminish the senses of my dolls to the point of vulnerability is not something I consider lightly.


    It was my hope that I would be able to reign in how often I fed them, reducing my need to merely sustain the wretch of a parasite grafted to my heart.


    But if my wretched siblings are going to follow us here, I will likely want to drain my dolls sooner rather than later so that there is time to recover. Without the moderating influence of the Castellan and her watchful Executioners, my siblings are more free to do as they please and worry about making up excuses after the fact.


    But I can¡¯t allow that kind of behavior around my dolls. Lenore and I made each of our blood dolls a promise. We would escape these depths, free the Fia and Selescia from their cages, and all live in comfort as friends.


    But when Lenore¡­


    When she¡­


    In a thirst for vengeance, I schemed and cut my way up the family chain. It was not until I took the Fourteenth sibling¡¯s place that my parasite grew fat to the point of requiring a second blood doll. I claimed Selescia, Lenore¡¯s doll, before any other broodling could manifest a need to replace theirs.


    Instead of freedom, my responsibilities grew alongside the display of viciousness that earned me my station. Making enemies amongst my family demanded I alternate on which doll I fed upon so that one could protect the other whenever my attention diverted to a courtly function.


    Now that my vengeance has led to us being sold as pawns with a neighboring nation, I cannot help but worry if I am improving or worsening our situation.


    Fia and Selescia seem happy at least to regale to me the joys of the outside world. It almost calms me enough to want to linger in their presence.


    But the moon will rise before long. I will need to impress upon the Seed Seers enough that I secure long term accommodations.


    There will be time to enjoy the sights for myself. For I must continue to focus on my responsibilities.


    ¡°So.¡± Selescia draws my attention with tightly knit eyebrows. ¡°What is your immediate plan?¡±


    I grimace. ¡°The exchange at the gate worries me. I fear we have outpaced any news of the impending arrangement.¡±


    ¡°Oh dear!¡± Fia exclaims.


    ¡°I have a handwritten edict from my Eldest brother.¡± I say in assurance. ¡°But ideally I will be able to break the news to the Seed Seers that we are to be bound for the foreseeable future as gently as I can.¡±


    Selescia clears her throat. ¡°You should be up front with the edict.¡±


    Fia¡¯s eyes widen. ¡°That won¡¯t do! Not unless they spent their whole lives preparing to serve like us!¡±


    Selescia tugs me and Fia both. ¡°Let me finish. Be honest. Do not hide the nature of this arrangement from them. You ideally want to portray yourself as on their side here. This arrangement has been made for the three of you without consulting.¡±


    I sigh. ¡°The only problem with that is I need to get a good read on them if I am going to have any success at painting myself as sympathetic in this."


    Fia catches me off guard by offering up a beaming smile. ¡°They don¡¯t know how good you have been to us! But they will soon!¡±


    ¡°I appreciate that, Fia. I really do.¡± I say, trying my best to let her down gently. ¡°But if our experience at the front gate is anything to go by, your relationship as my dolls might not be looked upon all that favorably. And who knows what that Watcher dispatched to communicate with the Seers might have said about us.¡±


    Fia pouts.


    But Selescia nods in affirmation. ¡°It would be best that we let Ayre make the first impression on their own.¡±


    I lower my head with the knowledge that the mere presence of my siblings will likely damage how people view us. No matter how gentle I try to be with my dolls, my siblings have no such reservations about openly draining others dry in order to facilitate leveraging their predatory senses at all times.


    ¡°Selescia is probably right.¡± I say, but an idea springs to mind. ¡°But I might ask one of you for permission to offer me blood in the presence of the Seed Seers.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure that is wise?¡± Selescia asks.


    I wince, still not comfortable with the idea myself. ¡°It would be better, I think, if their first impression of feeding comes from the three of us.¡±


    Selescia pales at that, confirming that I have no need to allude to how my siblings treat their dolls.


    Not even Fia has a positive spin to contribute, but she does squeeze me a little tighter.


    I lighten my tone, offering my dolls a gentle smile and a soft tug at the arm. ¡°Again. I¡¯ll ask for your permission. Feel free to come up with accommodations or concessions for me to resolve on the spot. Your comfort is just as important to me as making a good impression on the Seed Seers, if not more so.¡±


    Tugging at their arms gives me an excuse to tighten my hands into fists without them noticing the change in tension.


    Even if it means fighting my own siblings, I will never again allow Selescia or Fia to know the inside of another cage.

 Chapter 4 - A Love Sold to Strangers

    Ayre


    I recognize the red head of hair, even if its owner has ditched the mask. The Watcher approaches my dolls and I unarmed, but her expression suggests irritation.


    I offer to let her speak first.


    She just stares daggers at me before rolling her eyes and gesturing towards the spire of wood and leaves.


    My words are gentle as I address my dolls. ¡°Okay girls. Wait outside for me, okay? Shout and run to Astraea if anything threatens you.¡± Their safety must ever remain my priority. ¡°When I return, we will hopefully all have a roof over our heads for the coming moon.¡±


    I take all the time needed to ensure that Selescia and Fia are both comfortable releasing me before pulling away from their embrace.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Master!¡± Fia says. ¡°They are going to love you.¡±


    I sigh, giving Fia an appreciative pat on the head. Not a hair comes out of place.


    Selescia takes a moment to glare her own daggers at the redheaded Watcher on my behalf. ¡°Remember, try being honest with them. We are supposed to be allies.¡±


    I nod in agreement to Selescia before making my way towards the central spire.


    In passing, I have heard it said that Lunarians grow the spaces in which they live. But it makes another impression entirely to see how such a thing must have taken shape. The windows and branches spiral up around the trunk in such a consistent manner that I can mentally place the location of staircases that spiral upwards. I can even make out a pair of green robed Lunarians crossing the branches into an adjacent trunk of another spire.


    Mercifully, my escorting Watcher waits until we are well out of range from my dolls¡¯ capacity to overhear.


    ¡°I¡¯m not convinced. Not after that stunt at the gates.¡± She says.


    ¡°Good.¡± I say. ¡°I have been informed that other Vylian Princes and Princesses intend to witness this arranged binding ceremony. You would do well to remain wary of us.¡±


    Her eyes narrow before she can mask her expression behind indifference. ¡°Of course. I would make for a poor Watcher, otherwise.¡±


    It seems I am still being treated as a threat. Maybe now is not the best time to prod at what would prompt her to use those exact words. One can only hope she remembers to aim for the heart when it comes to my siblings, consequences be damned.


    ¡°You have informed the Seed Seers of my coming, correct?¡±


    She nods. Her face gives nothing else away.


    I take a deep breath, and reach for the edict rolled up into the singular pouch sewn into the inside of my shawl. ¡°Here. This should explain everything.¡±


    She takes it, making it a point to keep a wary eye on me.


    I take a respectful step back and continue talking. ¡°The green haired Watcher struck me as¡­ disagreeable. But if I¡¯m stuck here with you all, I suppose I should start being open and honest about why.¡±


    She stops reading to hold my gaze for a long moment.


    ¡°The way I see it.¡± I begin to say, softening my voice in a bid to present myself as having a shared interest in working alongside them. ¡°It will be my head too if your Moon Wrought implement production fails to catch up. Nevermind this binding to your Seed Seers.¡±


    The red haired Watcher snorts. ¡°Yeah. My brother would have hated hearing that. He would have likely doomed the lot of us to remain in control of the situation.¡± Her expression does not soften. Not that I expected her to, but she does offer me a begrudging smile. ¡°You should probably know that the Seed Seers are expecting you to be a brutish monster.¡±


    Her words catch me off guard.


    I flinch, almost wishing I never managed to coax anything out of her.


    Only then does something resembling regret begin to color her expression. ¡°Oh. I¡¯m sorry about that. It won¡¯t happen again.¡± She comes to a stop, turning to face me in full. ¡°You can call me Snapdragon. Unlike my brother, who you should continue to call the name of his station. Thorned Watcher, Second Seed.¡± When I don¡¯t immediately reply, she offers further consolation. ¡°Is there any way you would prefer I address you? Or maybe announce you to the Seed Seers?¡±


    It is hard to know how to respond.


    Astraea spent many a moon working tirelessly to avoid every little action that got under my skin. We were always so busy and in a place where I was unable to express vulnerability. Without that feedback, the process was always an affair of trial and error on her part.


    Meanwhile this Watcher immediately caught onto an aspect of one of my most personal shames, addressing it on the first try.


    No.


    I don¡¯t know this person.


    I narrow my eyes and adopt my own expressionless mask, wary of what else Snapdragon might notice about me. ¡°Just Ayre is fine.¡± I say, snapping at her. ¡°I could take or leave titles being haphazardly applied.¡± My voice hardens, but I find that there is nothing more to say.


    Immediately I get the sense that whatever rapport we have been building has been strained. As far as I can tell, she is just standing there scrutinizing my every word.


    So I press onward.


    The conversation between us ends there.


    If Amari or Astraea were here, maybe this could be gracefully salvaged. For now, I am content to let the matter drop.


    It is safer this way, I tell myself.


    It takes three floors of spiral staircases to reach the chambers of the Seed Seers. Along the way we pass an audience hall, armory, and dining space that can comfortably fit or arm a few dozen.


    Snapdragon turns to me, exchanging one last look before clearing her throat. The voice that utters from her lungs is deeper than before, projected with her whole chest. ¡°Beloved Seed Seers! I have escorted Ayre alone to treat with you. This one has traveled far to assist us with our invasive species problem.¡±


    I am treated to a wary look from Snapdragon. Getting the sense that I just saw or heard something I shouldn¡¯t have, but unable to quite put a finger on what, I merely nod my head in thanks.


    ¡°Don¡¯t make me regret this.¡± Snapdragon hisses, her voice suddenly the slightest of whispers.


    Without another word, I step past the threshold and into the personal chambers of the Lunarian Seed Seers.


    Snapdragon closes the door behind me,choosing to remain outside.


    It occurs to me that no explanation was ever offered as to whether or not there is any overlap between the roles of Prince and Seed Seer.


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    I know precious little of what to expect beyond names related to the moon and that the Seers are responsible for producing vile Moon Wrought implements that are of interest to the Castellan.


    If offending these Seed Seers risks disrupting the larger alliance negotiations, there will likely be nowhere I could flee that retribution would not follow. Besides, competition between my siblings is intense and vicious enough that I need to remain in the Castellan¡¯s good graces in order to protect myself and those who serve me.


    Climbing the ranks as I did earned me precious few friends and an abundance of slighted siblings who could act against me in the coming moons.


    If I am going to do this, I must allow no room for failure. Anyone who does not utterly support me is at risk of becoming easier for my siblings to exploit.


    Nevermind how I might feel about this situation. I have to make this arrangement amicable for both Seed Seers.


    I run a hand through my hair, smoothing out every black strand.


    Deep breaths.


    I coax myself into a heightened state of awareness by sinking a fingernail into my palm, drawing blood and the support of my parasite.


    My stride becomes effortlessly more confident as I approach the relatively empty chamber¡¯s center.


    No sign of either Seed Seer yet, but in the darkness I can make out five other doors spread along the circular walls.


    If Astraea were here, she would no doubt assure me that I need only shout for her to come to my defense.


    But where would we go? Night is nearly upon us. While the carriage offers some shelter, it would provide little safety from any real Vylian retribution.


    Astraea would likely assure me that she could manage something, as if fending off the entire Lunarian settlement was just casually within her purview.


    But how far could we really run if it came down to it?


    Something skitters away from my boot.


    Unlit gemstones sit in the center of the room, arranged in a circle. With the exception being the one I just knocked out of place. A ritual chamber perhaps?


    I take a step forward and reach down into the darkness to find a red tourmaline stone almost the size of my palm. Strange. Valuable stones are not usually left unattended, especially if they are paired or ensorceled with some stored effect. This stone is dim and in need of recharging, but not entirely empty either.


    Clinging tightly to the stone I get a sense of the emotions contained within. A chill slithers up my arm as hundreds of vile threats begin to ring in my ear.


    It takes a few deep breaths, but I manage to ease my grip. The gemstone¡¯s sensations die down soon afterwards.


    My eyes settle on the far door. It is the only one in which a pale light shines from the other side.


    I begin to make my way towards it before a hissing voice cuts through the silence like a threat.


    ¡°Entering that room would be a fatal mistake.¡±


    I turn.


    With a tapping sound, a pale blue light begins to illuminate the chamber.


    A tall sharp featured Lunarian glares at me from across what I surmise to be a ritual chamber. In one of her four hands, a blue topaz serves as a personal glimmer stone cut into a metal necklace. Snapdragon¡¯s spear rests in one of the others.


    Upon closer inspection, it is not just the light that is blue.


    Her white hair in the blue light is the first giveaway that I am staring at someone with a most unnatural blue-gray skin coloration. Pink circles mark her soft white antennae that stand at attention as she awaits my reaction.


    ¡°Thank you.¡± I say, quickly reaching for something both lighthearted and diplomatic. ¡°If what you said is true, you just saved this alliance from getting off to a rough start.¡±


    Her eyes narrow. ¡°Of course I speak the truth. You were about to trespass upon my moonstone garden. Much to your own peril if you weren¡¯t aware.¡±


    ¡°Your¡­ what?¡± I reply, absolutely blanking on how to respond to that.


    Her eyes narrow. Judging by her next words, she must have read something in my expression. ¡°It is obvious you know what I am talking about. Is it the how or why that eludes you?¡±


    I blink, hard before pinching my nose. ¡°You can¡¯t be serious. Your Moon Wrought implements incorporate Moonstones, of all things, and something is successfully attacking your shipments?¡± I genuinely can¡¯t decide what is worse. That I am getting involved with twice accursed casting implements, or that something might intentionally want to steal such a vile tool on a repeat basis.


    Focus, Ayre. I need to be making a good impression.


    The moth-featured Lunarian¡¯s antennae flitter. ¡°I see you are not entirely useless, just out of your depth.¡± She clicks her tongue before casting a glance to one of the other doors. ¡°Sister dearest, can you please hurry it up? We agreed that we would greet the Prince-thing together.¡±


    If nothing else, Prince-thing is far from the worst title I have had leveled at me. During today alone, even.


    If anything, it best lines up with how I would describe myself.


    From the second door on my right comes a second feminine voice. This one is lighter and more airy. ¡°I heard Snapdragon! Give me a moment.¡±


    The four armed Seed Seer crosses her lower arms. ¡°Can we hurry this up? I have more important rituals to be conducting.¡± The butt of her spear taps against the ground in impatience.


    More important rituals than¡­ I strangle that line of thought immediately. There is nothing more important than making sure I come to some kind of lasting arrangement with the Seed Seers here. And I would definitely consider myself to be failing at that part.


    The second Seed Seer enters the room with skin of pale violet and a singular horn cresting a veil of white hair that falls to her knees.


    I gently clear my throat. ¡°I apologize for arriving without much warning.¡±


    Both of them react simultaneously, more aimed at each other than me.


    ¡°This one is not living up to what Snapdragon impressed upon us.¡± Hisses the first.


    And in a much gentler voice, the second shakes her head. ¡±It is no trouble! If Snapdragon suddenly claims they are here to help, I am inclined to believe her.¡±


    The first sister strides toward me. ¡°We¡¯ve a number of rituals to conduct. Each one is scheduled days in advance. You are already delaying another moonrise ritual by arriving early, so if we can all just get this over with¡­¡±


    ¡°Theriya.¡± Intones the second sister. ¡°I think you¡¯re being belligerent with this one. We don¡¯t even know the full picture.¡±


    The first sister slams the butt of the spear into the floor in a clear sign of frustration, but says nothing. She rolls her dark eyes before gestures for the second sister to continue.


    ¡°My apologies. Prince Ayre, was it? My sister was expecting something of a¡­ brute. As you might be able to imagine, neither of us were comfortable with the idea being bossed around. But you¡¯re¡­¡±


    Her voice trails off, inviting me to fill in the blanks myself. ¡±Please, just call me Ayre.¡± The second sister¡¯s eyebrows rise with interest. So I elaborate. ¡°My mother, the um, Castellan, definitely aims to foster that impression. I don¡¯t take any offense.¡±


    ¡°See Cerya? No offense taken!¡± Theriya promptly strides towards the room¡¯s center, scrutinizing the ring of gemstones.


    Before she can realize the change, I produce the tourmaline in my hand. ¡°Apologies, Seed Seer Theriya, I stumbled into this in the darkness.¡±


    Theriya turns to swipe it from my grasp. ¡°If you¡¯re not going by Prince, I¡¯m not going by the title of Seed Seer. Just Theriya, thank you very much. Now if you can please step inside the circle¡­¡±


    Despite every instinct immediately warning me against doing just that, Cerya is the first call her sister out on it. ¡°Theriya! Is that really necessary? We¡¯re getting along fine, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    I manage to trade smiles with Cerya. ¡°If it makes you feel better, I feel less threatened by you than any one of my siblings. Really, whatever Theriya has in mind was likely a prudent precaution.¡±


    Cerya¡¯s smile briefly turns sad.


    Theriya turns away, hiding her reaction.


    Did I say something wrong?


    Was it too soon for such a declaration?


    ¡°I apologize if my arrival is an inconvenience. I will not claim expertise in understanding the significance of moonrise in a ritual, but if there is anything I can do to make this binding of our families go smoothly, you need only give me instructions. I will willingly follow them.¡± My thoughts race to keep up with my words. My instincts scream this is starting to turn in my favor, but I cannot afford to leave anything to chance.


    I am not powerless here. These two might be bickering, but it is nothing like my siblings.


    My hand reaches out in an offer to accept the tourmaline from Theriya¡¯s hands. ¡°Allow me to help. I know my gemstones and am willing to offer every vile word I have been subjected to if you have need of further ire for your workings.¡±


    Cerya¡¯s sad smile of visible concern only grows, confirming that I have guessed at a core component of the ritual circle.


    Theriya on the other hand decides to scatter the stones arranged in a circle with a swift kick and a defeated sigh. It is through gritted teeth that she finally turns back to face us. ¡°You¡¯re right, sister dearest. This one is not the brute I thought they would be.¡±


    Without another word, Theriya begins to gather up the scattered ritual stones.


    I am left unsure what to make of the scene.


    Thankfully, Cerya is quick to distract me by tugging at my arm to join her in one of the side chambers. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Ayre. You meant well, but none of this is necessary! Let¡¯s get you out of range from my Theriya¡¯s haphazard preparations.¡±


    I swallow nervously at the implication and follow the more chipper and friendly of the two Seed Seers into what quickly becomes clear is her bed chamber.


    Quietly, hoping to not offend the other sister with a whispered question, I ask her to elaborate. ¡°Can I ask what that ritual circle was supposed to do?¡±


    Cerya gives me a look of sympathy. ¡°It was something hasty, arranged for our protection if you or Miss Wyrmsbane intended to do us harm. Nothing too drastic, just something to shackle you harmlessly in place. We still would have fed you while the overarching negotiations took place! But I was hoping it wouldn¡¯t be necessary.¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡± I say, doing everything I can to not flinch at the idea of having unknowingly agreed to help reinforce a cage intended for me or my protector. ¡°Thank you. For not thinking it necessary.¡±


    I get another one of those sad smiles from her.


    And spurred on by a dangerous whim, I allow myself to be vulnerable with someone other than Astraea or my Dolls. My senses dull as I relax.


    The involuntary shaking begins before I can pull away from Cerya¡¯s touch. ¡°I¡¯ve spent far too much time in my mother¡¯s dungeon, and I¡­ appreciate the freedom of not being caged more than you could have possibly known.¡±

 Chapter 5 – What Binds Us

    Ayre


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ terrible.¡± Cerya¡¯s words do not do it justice.


    But when I gaze into her eyes, I recognize the look of a cornered creature. There is no need to question that kind of look when faced with a predator.


    I keep my distance, allowing myself to rest against the wall by the door to her chambers. Any measure to assure her I do not intend to invade this space feels worth taking this early into our interactions.


    The Lunarian Seer sighs, lowering herself to sit atop the petal of an oversized flower. As she pulls the edge of the petal around her, I re-contextualize it as a kind of bedding.


    Now is probably a good time for me to be up front about as much as I can.


    ¡°The Castellan intends to mark some anniversary of a shared conquest between our people with a period of negotiations intended to bind us as more than just allies. Binding myself to you and Theriya is intended as the first of many offerings being made to your rulers.¡± Had I more time, I would have loved to research the shared history between our nations. ¡°Truth be told, I¡¯m still new at court. I could not tell you how earnest this gesture is beyond that it has been assured Astraea and I will be enough to resolve any production issues you¡¯ve been having.¡±


    Cerya averts her eyes. ¡°I¡¯m not sure what you can do that two entire plantings of Watchers cannot. As seedlings, most Lunarians that live in this branch are still considered young. Still, it is not like we are unaware of what Vylian royalty are capable of. This just¡­ feels like a problem of scale.¡± The way her voice tapers off, I can tell there is more she wants to say.


    But I am not here to pry.


    Being patient and not pushing seems to have been the right call, as she convinces herself after only a brief silence.


    ¡°I suspect the Watchers will be happy to let you go on the offensive. They¡­ think their time is wasted on anything that is not a defensive role.¡±


    I grit my teeth. ¡°But the problem lies in attacks along the roads in and out of this place being hit.¡± Cerya begins to nod midway through making my point. It is not her ears that are deaf to reason, it seems. ¡°Right. We should probably table this conversation until my Sworn Blade can join us.¡± But that is all I say. I can¡¯t just freely admit that I am not entirely sure of what my protector is capable of.


    Or should I be revealing as much information as Cerya is to build trust?


    Cerya leans forward. ¡°Would it be feasible to send for this Sworn Blade of yours?¡±


    My hand hovers over my shoulder, massaging at the bindings beneath the shawl. ¡°I¡¯m not sure how much Snapdragon told you, but she announced herself as Astraea Wyrmsbane. She should be finding a place for our carriage driver to stay for the night and unpacking our things.¡± I grind a hesitant fang against my lip as I wager revealing more. ¡°Truth be told, I suspect she is worth far more than I am in a fight. For what little time I have called her my protector, she has brought me much comfort and counsel that suggests experience far beyond my years.¡±


    Cerya¡¯s eyes light up. ¡°Oh! Well if she brings you a measure of comfort and safety, that alone is reason enough to consider her worth waiting for.¡± This declaration is loud and impassioned enough that Theriya would certainly overhear, if not Snapdragon as well. It probably depends on the thickness of the walls and doors between us.


    Sure enough, I overhear Theriya moving to fetch Snapdragon from outside.


    The Watcher soon enters the room, immediately settling down atop a petal next to Cerya¡¯s. All of this comes without a need for an invitation.


    I am somewhat impressed. As many as eight people could each claim their own petal if desired, but I suspect this floral bedding could fit twice that number if Cerya so desired.


    ¡°Snapdragon.¡± Cerya whispers.


    ¡°Yes love?¡± Snapdragon says, lazily eyeing the two of us.


    ¡°Would it be too much to ask for you to fetch Ayre¡¯s companion?¡±


    Snapdragon sits up, suddenly attentive. ¡°Which one?¡± Her eyes turn to me.


    I offer her a hand to signal the one among my company who is a head taller than me. ¡°Astraea, but I would like both of my dolls too, if it is not too much to ask.¡±


    That gets a snort out of Snapdragon. She¡¯s back out of bed and stretching with a look of purpose. ¡°Sure. Fetching your pretty companions beats returning to my post at the gates. If anyone asks, I¡¯m seeing to your needs.¡±


    I turn away from her words, unsure how much longer my noble visage capable of staying on task will last. ¡°I just don¡¯t want you to get the wrong idea about me and Astraea. She and I aren¡¯t¡­ None of us are like that. Not really.¡±


    What noble visage?


    I¡¯m nearing my limit.


    If anything, I need a place to fall apart. Preferably just in front of my dolls.


    Astraea might be ready for it, but what about me?


    My eyes meet Cerya¡¯s once Snapdragon has left the room. There is a visible concern.


    But how much can I trust her?


    What am I to Cerya?


    If given the opportunity, how quick would she be to exploit our weaknesses?


    Or am I projecting too much of my siblings onto her?


    I soon find that I am not the first one to back away.


    ¡°Do you need space?¡± Is all Cerya asks.


    Yes.


    But I am terrified of being left alone to dwell on my memories.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± I say, admitting what feels like a mistake.


    I get a thoughtful look before Cerya crosses to the opposite side of the room. ¡°What if you pretended I was not here? I would not pay you mind unless you specifically drew my attention.¡±


    ¡°This binding between us can¡¯t be that easy.¡± I say, giving her an incredulous look.


    Cerya does not acknowledge me, her attention fixated on sorting through some clothes.


    ¡°Cerya.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Ayre?¡± She turns to give me her attention.


    ¡°I¡­¡± I freeze, feeling something within me stir. Vulnerabilities need to remain buried. ¡°Nevermind.¡±


    Cerya smiles softly before resuming what quickly becomes evident is her nightly routine. Fetching clothes to sleep in and for tomorrow, followed by searching for a brush.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    This leaves me time to explore the space at my own leisure. Everything has a grown appearance to it. Stumps, knotted storage spaces, and soft greenery in various sizes to lay or sit atop. With the rest taken into context, it is little wonder that her bedding is a massive flower with an arrangement of petals one could fall into.


    I save the mirrors arranged on one of the pairs of stumps for last. It is not so much that I am avoiding them so much as¡­ working my way up to it.


    Cerya begins to hum as she finds a seat. She has turned her back on me, committing to managing the entirety of her hair using another one of the mirrors. If Snapdragon comes and goes, it is little wonder this space is meant to accommodate more than just Cerya.


    How crowded would this room feel with the addition of me and my Dolls? I look around. If anything, all it would likely need is a couple more pieces of furniture that are already here. If my own personal space was a quarter the size as this one, I would be content.


    I make the choice to hang my crimson shawl from a nearby branch currently unused for the purposes of holding a light source. Dim light is cast solely from the opposite end where a glowing moss filled lantern hangs from a similar branch. Its light does not reach the door, not with the flower bed between them.


    Taking a deep breath, I face the dark and wretched thing in the meager light of the mirror. Much of me remains in shadow without a light source alongside me. There is enough light to make out the black binding strips of cloth wrapped around the entirety of my chest and shoulders. It takes slow and careful unwrapping to expose the shoulders and scars desperately in need of massaging.


    The tightness of the bindings normally press my parasite and I into alertness. Circulation has never been a concern, not when I have a parasite that has already stitched unwanted limbs to my torso. Had those Lunarian Watchers severed a limb, I shudder to think how my parasite would have reacted. But there would have been little room for doubt at that point.


    Removing the bandages almost instantly causes tension to flee my body.


    The thought of being seen for the patchwork monstrosity that I am is counterbalanced by my weariness. I will need to sleep eventually. With Astraea on the way, now is as good a time as I am going to get in terms of letting my guard down to see how these Lunarians will react.


    Once the bindings are reapplied, this time loose enough for sleep, I prepare myself for the conversation to come. With my back to Cerya, my gaze falls to the floor.


    Here goes what little I have left in me. Anything else that needs to be discussed will wait until morning.


    ¡°I¡¯m not used to caring what others think of me.¡± I say.


    I hear Cerya¡¯s brush be set atop the wooden surface in front of her. But I do not turn to face her.


    Not yet.


    My explanation continues. ¡°I am a Prince only so far as it means keeping Fia and Selescia safe.¡±


    Cerya gives me a moment.


    ¡°Safe from what? If you don¡¯t mind me asking.¡± She asks with a whisper..


    ¡°Siblings who would¡­¡± My hands ball into fists that I hide in my lap. ¡°Drain and discard in favor of fresh sources of sustenance without regard for where they come from.¡±


    Cerya says nothing.


    I continue.


    ¡°This binding meant nothing to me. At least at first. I have no need or desire to claim you or Theriya as my own. But if such a binding is an edict from the Castellan, I¡¯ll make compromises if it means maintaining my station.¡±


    ¡°And keeping your girls safe.¡± Cerya finishes. ¡°I understand.¡±


    ¡°Good. I was told to be honest. And I have done so.¡± I say, turning to find Cerya wearing an expression I cannot parse.


    ¡°But what do you want?¡± She asks.


    No.


    I can¡¯t find familiarity in this question.


    Can¡¯t?


    Or won¡¯t?


    This is not the first time a girl has tried to talk me into finding a reason to escape the depths.


    I flinch, tearing my gaze from hers in favor of the mirror.


    In the darkness, I find the mark left by my chin striking stone.


    I am faced with a chip in my lip from an ill-advised first feeding. Sometimes I can still taste the blade.


    I rub those sunken cheeks. A leftover from a self-inflicted deprivation. The realization that hurting myself means being unable to spare my dolls from harm all the same cannot be escaped.


    But I can¡¯t face this.


    So I lie.


    ¡°Same things as everyone else.¡± So confident. ¡°Somewhere safe to sleep. Food¡­¡± But so hollow of meaning.


    Cerya cuts me off. ¡°Assuming we offer you that for as long as you stay here. No need to fight for it. What then?¡±


    My voice catches in my throat.


    ¡°Surely there¡¯s something.¡± Cerya says, her voice gently pleading.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± And my heart grows heavy with a weight that eclipses the parasite. ¡°The last time I shared what I wanted with another, my siblings took that person from me."


    And more besides. If¡­ I¡¯m going to do this, letting someone in. It can¡¯t be all at once.


    My words are already giving way to sobs as I begin to fall apart in earnest.


    Cerya is unable to get anything but incoherent lamentations from me. For a while, the details of the moment stop mattering.


    I allow myself to feel the weight of what has been done to me. Until I become aware of being swept up in Cerya¡¯s arms.


    I struggle, almost instinctively, but Cerya¡¯s words put a stop to that.


    ¡°I may not be your Fia, your Selescia, or this Astraea. And maybe I can never replace who they took from you. But if I¡¯m the one your vile family bound you to¡­ I will claim you as my own if I have to. If it means giving you an opportunity to become more than the purpose they discarded you for.¡± Cerya¡¯s declarations become shouts. ¡°You¡¯re mine. Mine! You hear me? Mine.¡±


    It is enough to prompt Theriya to rush into the room and witness the vulnerable mess I have been reduced to.


    ¡°This one is ours, Theriya.¡± Her sister cries. ¡°I won¡¯t let this one wither away like Snapdragon. Not if I can do something about it.¡±


    Theriya catches my eye. ¡°I think she likes you. Should I be growing a flower for your own space? Or is sharing Cerya¡¯s fine for now?¡±


    Cerya¡¯s arms squeeze tighter around my chest.


    It takes me longer than I would like to give more than a nod, but I manage it. ¡°Here is¡­ fine.¡±


    ¡°Let me know if you ever change your mind.¡± Theriya somehow manages to find amusement in the scene before respectfully retreating towards the door. ¡°Should I delay the others?¡±


    To which Cerya defers to me.


    ¡°No. I¡­ I¡¯ll come out and meet them.¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re sure.¡± Theriya says, closing the door before I can confirm or change my mind.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure I understand either of you.¡± I say. ¡°But thank you.¡±


    Cerya finds herself laughing in a way I¡¯m not sure is voluntary. She wipes away tears as she speaks in a way I have only ever seen Lenore do. ¡°I never know when a flower will wither or be cut short. It is best, I¡¯ve found, to cherish those that I can.¡±


    ¡°Theriya¡­ feels the same?¡± I ask.


    I get a shrug in turn. ¡°She needed a sister. And I won¡¯t last long in my position without people I can trust. I make it a point to try and grow my garden of supporters whenever I can. If things don¡¯t work out, I find a new place for them.¡± Her smile strikes me as a weak reassurance.


    Not a sister, my instincts immediately suggest.


    I shake my head, dismissing the thought. They are sisters enough, in the same way I am protecting my dolls by being a Prince for their sakes. None of these arrangements need to be ideal or what was originally promised. If Fia and Selescia are content, I should be too.


    But I¡¯m not. And I don¡¯t know how to fix that.


    Stop.


    I just need to focus on what I can do.


    I need to eat, and sleep. Tomorrow I need to get to know Astraea, Cerya, and Theriya in earnest. I can decide the rest once I feel secure in that knowledge. These Moon Wrought production issues, invasive species, and visiting siblings can be dealt with as a sensible order presents itself.


    For now, I try to allow myself to not shake and sob over feeling like I will never be okay again.


    If this was a mistake, and the Lunarians turn on us, I¡¯ll deal with it then.


    But for now, I am at the limit of what I can do.


    ¡°Okay.¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ll tell everyone we found a new start. I think¡­ they¡¯ll be happy to hear that.¡±


    Only then does Cerya finally release me from her arms.


    I am left to grapple with the absence of a weight on my chest that is¡­ desired and missed.


    None of this changes that I am still a wretch. The thought comes too easily, as the uncomfortable weight of my parasite becomes the focus of my body¡¯s irregularities.


    Maybe I am¡­ a desirable wretch. Or maybe Cerya and Astraea were both wrong to claim otherwise. Something to figure out later.


    The observable fact is that I have survived letting my guard down with Cerya. And Astraea did not murder us on any of the nights leading up to this one. I can work with giving them the benefit of the doubt. I can treat them as allies until I am given reason to do otherwise.


    I meet Snapdragon and my companions at the top of the stairs leading to the third floor. Fia and Selescia both are welcomed into my arms.


    ¡°How did it go?¡± Fia asks with a chipper energy that catches me off guard.


    I feel delicate, weary.


    Sleep, food, and if I don¡¯t improve, I will need to consider feeding on one of my dolls.


    ¡°I think I did okay.¡± I say, attempting to try on one of Cerya¡¯s sad smiles as my own. ¡°I¡­ let my guard down around Cerya. But she claimed me for her own and has invited us to share her flower bed.¡±


    Something about withering in the same way Snapdragon did. If she is anything like me, that is not a topic to be broached lightly.


    Fia¡¯s eyes widen. ¡°Okay? If this were back home, that would be the equivalent of a quick and clean killing of a darkbeast that preserves all the meat! This is the ideal outcome!¡±


    Selescia clears her throat. ¡°Fia. We are in respectable company. Do try to ration out your excitement.¡±


    My more level headed doll tries to communicate something to me with a look, but I wave her off. I¡¯m just happy to see glimpses of an unfiltered Fia restored to her senses.


    This is as far as any of us have ever been from the depths that for so long defined the scope of our lives. If I¡¯m allowed to be a mess, Fia is allowed to make comparisons to what success looks like in the circumstances that led to me becoming such a wretch.


    ¡°We¡¯re safe here.¡± I say. ¡°They like us. We can¡­ start over here.¡±


    That gets me a look from Astraea and Snapdragon both. But there is no time to read into those.


    Selescia and Fia cling tight to me, and I find myself focused on embracing them harder than usual.


    I am a good Prince.


    My dolls are going to be safe.


    That I can strive for something else is¡­ nostalgic.


    Not hopeful. Not yet. It would be too soon to entertain delusions.

 Chapter 6 - Floral Arrangements

    Ayre


    ¡°Good. It sounds to me that you¡¯re doing wonderful.¡± Astraea¡¯s praise does much for my mood.


    ¡°Mmm.¡± I find myself nibbling on my lip as a hunger for blood and the essence of another joins mundane feelings of weariness.


    But it feels too early to feed on my dolls. Everyone still needs to be properly introduced.


    This is going to be one of those incredibly uncomfortable nights where I¡¯m supposed to feel better about the progress I¡¯ve made after the fact, isn¡¯t it?


    My fellow monster draws close, coaxing my dolls to pull away. Astraea, my sworn blade and protector approaches me now with a proud demeanor.


    She is the only outsider to have responded to my hunger for blood with sympathy and an understanding that she should not have.


    How do I even approach understanding Astraea? Possibly Snapdragon too, for that matter.


    I discard the thought, choosing to instead bury my face in her shoulder. I am thankfully incapable of biting through armored plating.


    ¡°Okay, talk to me.¡± She says.


    I keep my sentences concise to keep my thoughts from drifting. ¡°Two Lunarian Seers: Theriya and Cerya. Theriya threatened me. Cerya called it off. Think I confided in her? That¡­ doesn¡¯t seem like me. I¡¯m tired, hungry, and dealing with bad memories. Can¡¯t keep pushing myself like this. But Cerya is worried, for me I think. Something about¡­ mmm.¡° Is it okay to mention that Cerya saw something related to Snapdragon in me?


    Withering, she called it.


    How long can I keep catching myself from babbling something I shouldn¡¯t or trying to take a bite out of the nearest source of blood?


    If I just got some sleep, I could probably handle my urges better.


    Astraea simply nods before turning and leading me back into the open chamber for rituals. Theriya is nowhere to be seen, but a second bed chamber door is now open.


    I point Astraea to Cerya¡¯s door moments before the Seed Seer steps outside the room to greet us. I turn to Astraea. ¡°I''m going to try and focus now.¡±


    Astraea squeezes my arm, stopping me from hurting myself. ¡°Be strong for me.¡±


    I don¡¯t feel any spilling of blood like when I nick my hand, but my parasite grips my heart all the same.


    My stride regains its confidence as my vision sharpens.


    ¡°Are you back with us, Ayre?¡± Astraea whispers.


    I nod. ¡°Yeah. Let¡¯s make this quick though.¡±


    Astraea smiles. ¡°I¡¯ll try. That you managed to get them to like you on your own is important. Never forget that.¡±


    Sure.


    Putting my body in a state of heightened awareness makes me keenly aware of how long it has been since I have fed my parasite.


    Cerya has so much more to offer than my delicate little dolls. She is so unusually well fed and¡­ no. Stop.


    I can¡¯t think of people in that way. Not as I am.


    I voluntarily close my eyes and take a deep breath.


    Only the scent of my own blood touches the air. This is evidence enough that Astraea must have indeed drawn blood from my arm. But how did I not feel it?


    There is no blood on her claw, it is almost as if¡­


    I open my eyes to find Cerya wearing a concerned expression.


    ¡°Sorry.¡± I say. ¡°We should probably handle introductions.¡±


    Cerya beckons all of us into her private chamber. Taking a seat at the edge of a flower petal, she motions for me to sit alongside her.


    A look to the side tells me that Snapdragon and Astraea have already parted to flank the door on either side. This leaves me the only one Cerya could be gesturing towards.


    I accept, confirming with an exchange of looks that this is indeed Cerya¡¯s intent.


    She then turns her attention to Astraea. ¡°My lady, allow me to introduce myself as Cerya Waning-Moon.¡±


    My lips tighten at the change in demeanor. There is a warmth in Cerya¡¯s voice that comes more easily than it did before.


    Astraea steps forward. ¡°Fair Seed Seer, I and the noble charge I am duty bound to protect are new to these lands. It is my hope that we prove to be a boon in the coming moons. You may call me Astraea, if it pleases.¡±


    Cerya¡¯s eyes practically alight at Astraea¡¯s words. ¡°Oh it very much pleases me to make your acquaintance! It charms me to know that Ayre keeps such lovely company.¡± Her eyes spare hardly more than a glance at my dolls as they are last to enter the room.


    Astraea accepts the compliment with grace, showing off a sharp smile before bowing low. ¡°Forgive me, fair Seed Seer. I have been asked to advise, guide, and protect. Until such a time passes that Ayre is secure in their place here, I am afraid such dalliances will have to wait.¡±


    ¡°Your forgiveness is wholeheartedly accepted Lady Astraea! Please do not allow me to get in the way of your many dedications!¡± Cerya practically titters as she sings the words aloud.


    Either Cerya is suddenly putting on airs, has become comfortable with us, or she has taken an interest in my Sworn Blade.


    All three could be true at once, I suppose.


    My eyes turn to Snapdragon in a search for more insight, mere moments before Cerya does the same.


    ¡°I like to think of this one as my own personal protector.¡± Cerya says with a giggle as she beckons for Snapdragon to approach. ¡°For so long as she is within these walls, you may call her Snapdragon.¡±


    Snapdragon bristles, but only slightly as she meets my eye. As she approaches to stand at Cerya¡¯s side, I tilt my head to the side and attempt to get her attention.


    ¡°If I can return a favor.¡± I say, drawing out that last word. ¡°Do you have a preference over how you are to be addressed outside these walls?¡±


    Snapdragon¡¯s shoulders sink, but her face hardens. The rest of her winds up tight as she stands at attention. ¡°When I report to the rest of those whom I have been planted alongside, I go only by the order of sprouting. You may call me Third. When otherwise serving in any other official capacity as a Lunariain Watcher, I am to be addressed as Thorned Watcher, Third Seed.¡± Snapdragon says, grimacing.


    ¡°I¡¯ll try not to address you as such without cause.¡± I say with a confident smile.


    My instincts pay off, earning me a soft smile from Snapdragon in turn.


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    ¡°I would appreciate that.¡± She says.


    ¡°It depends on who is addressing her.¡± Cerya says, chiming in. ¡°You¡¯ll learn the particulars, but until then I would specifically advise against bothering those who only see my dear Snapdragon as indistinguishable from the rest.¡±


    The numbers might be situational. I suppose it would make sense if they are numbered only according to who sprouts first. Such a thing should only matter up to a point once individuals have been able to prove themselves.


    Cerya¡¯s arm moves ever so slightly, brushing against mine. I try not to flinch, taking it as a sign of approval. It takes me a few moments to smother thoughts about how Cerya has just smeared a drop of my blood along her arm in the exchange.


    Which just leaves my dolls to be introduced.


    Now would probably be a good time to stop being hyper aware of everything my senses pick up on.


    They¡¯re nothing but unremarkable dolls, I think to myself. It¡¯s not much, but any effort of willing myself to believe the words makes it more manageable.


    I give them an inviting gesture, which causes one to get excited.


    That¡¯s just Fia.


    An untamed length of black hair falls to her waist. It is enough that she cradles her hair in one arm when she lowers herself to bow. ¡°Your majesty! I am but a humble doll assigned to my Ayre¡¯s needs.¡±


    ¡°Might I know your name?¡± Cerya asks.


    ¡°This one would happily give it, even if we think ourselves quite interchangeable. I am Fia, and this here is Selescia!¡±


    My other doll merely inclines her head. With hair just as dark, Selescia keeps hers cut short enough to never fall beneath her ears. ¡°Would I be right in concluding that so long as there are no guests within these walls, we might be allowed to dismiss with formalities?¡±


    Cerya offers my dolls such a warm smile and tone of voice. ¡°Of course! My recommendation would be to make yourselves comfortable. You¡¯re going to be living here, are you not?" The Seed Seer turns to me. ¡°We can save putting on airs for those who actually care about such things.¡±


    Her words sound well and good on the face of it. Outwardly, I must register as interested, as Cerya is not immediately shocked by any expression of mine.


    But I have unfortunately reached the stage of wrestling with my parasite¡¯s hunger where feigning disinterest no longer works. Fia and Selescia appear to my eyes as suddenly vibrant and alive enough that I can¡¯t help but think about how filled with blood they are. The little details of their poses become impossible not to notice.


    Selescia has her hands behind her back. So often those hands are filled with knives.


    Meanwhile Fia¡¯s feet positioning is all wrong, like she is poised to charge or leap. Hers is a brand of wild and furious violence. Ever focused on finding weak points...


    ¡°It is as she says. Be at ease.¡± I say, feeling as compelled as my dolls do to lower our guards just a touch.


    For however much I wish to keep my dolls from harm, we are each defined by a considerable length of time in the depths where violence was inevitable. Expecting it never quite became an unsafe assumption when interacting with others so long as we remained in the Vylian court. We ourselves did not prove to be exceptions to this norm for a number of interactions.


    Selescia and Lenore were the quickest to identify value in not being at each other¡¯s throats. Fia and I took much longer. It wasn¡¯t until we helped each other kill another creature until we found an opportunity to bond.


    Selescia surprises me by clasping her hands in front of her, revealing that she carried no such blade. ¡°I must thank you, Cerya. For too long has any perceived slight at maintaining appearances led to threats and punishment.¡±


    Snapdragon cuts in with a bark of a laugh. ¡°You. I like you.¡±


    My¡­ Lenore¡¯s doll blows Snapdragon a kiss. ¡°Sometimes we must reserve our attention for what the most perceptive among us are likely to miss.¡± Selescia says, turning her eyes to me. Before I can make sense of the exchange, she begins to approach me, voicing an explanation that prompts me to lower my guard. ¡°Now that I provoked punishment and have gone unpunished, I may take leave of my senses so that yours are sharpened.¡±


    Almost immediately, Snapdragon and Cerya step aside to have a hushed exchange off to the side.


    ¡°I¡¯ll keep watch over the dolls.¡± Snapdragon offers.


    Cerya purrs. ¡°Be gentle with Selescia. She¡¯ll be back to herself in a day or more, depending on how much is given.¡±


    Snapdragon sighs. ¡°That quick, huh? Makes me wonder why my brother is so worried.¡±


    I perk up at that, feeling a sudden need to seize on identifying just how much Cerya knows about Vylian feeding.


    But Selescia has already slipped a knife from the sleeve of her dress. Such a clever doll.


    My hunger demands I not worry about explaining the nuances of feeding. Instead I should just show Cerya how gentle I can be.


    With a soft cry, Selescia¡¯s blood descends along offered fingers.


    I press my lips to her flesh, savoring the taste and warmth of her life¡¯s essence.


    Almost immediately, my senses become blinded by the overstimulation of becoming hyper aware of every detail of my doll¡¯s body.


    Selescia seizes that moment of vulnerability to climb atop of me. She pins my arms beneath her legs in short order so that she remains in control of the feeding.


    Any concern of mine over the irregularity in our position is swept away as I soak up every detail of the stretch of skin between her chin and the base of her neck. So close are we that her pores and long faded scars are all my eyes have to worry about.


    This is not how we typically do this.


    With Selescia¡¯s knife discarded, her unbloodied hand digs into my chest. Fingernails trace the outline of my parasite¡¯s position.


    I feel my wretch squirm within me as I my tongue drinks up every last drop of blood that pours from Selescia¡¯s palm.


    The threat solidifies as Selesia¡¯s fingers rake at my chest.


    More.


    I need more.


    My lips nibble at her fingers, approaching their base.


    My teeth part in anticipation of reaching the source.


    Her wound, dripping wet with blood.


    And then I have her.


    My lips coax the savory stream of life that flows through Selescia¡¯s body directly from the palm of her hand.


    She quivers, leaning into me as she grows weaker.


    All at once I become aware of her unsteadiness.


    The tiniest ease of pressure against my arms is enough to free them.


    I have her. Cradled gently in my arms, I withdraw my lips and pivot my attention towards easing her onto the petal beside me. With a growl, I push the needs of my wretch back down now that it has been fed.


    My eyes roam over my doll in unfounded concern. Selescia¡¯s complexion has only turned a touch paler from our exchange.


    Fia is at our side now. Without the need for words between us, she applies a binding around Selescia¡¯s hand.


    I remain still, gently caressing my Selescia¡¯s cheek until her breathing slows.


    ¡°It¡¯s done.¡± I say, the moment I am sure that Selescia is asleep. Fia is the one who is comforted earlier into sleep by my reassuring words. With Selescia I have found it only takes her longer.


    Maybe my voice is not the one she wants to hear after a feeding. Or maybe I¡¯m just being unkind with myself.


    Fia hugs me from behind. She knows that I always feel like a miserable wretch afterwards.


    When I feel comfortable prying myself from the attention of my dolls, I find that Snapdragon is the one to offer me a hand. I let her shoulder the weight helping me to my feet. Each of us doing as best we can not to disturb Selescia¡¯s sleep.


    ¡°Would you like me to show you to another room to change?¡± Snapdragon asks with a whisper.


    I shake my head. ¡°The bindings stay on. I¡¯ve already loosened them for resting.¡±


    Snapdragon nods. ¡°Understood. If you¡¯ll excuse me then.¡± And with that, Snapdragon turns toward the door to find Astraea seated firmly on a nearby stump.


    A wordless exchange passes between them before they both nod some understanding.


    Astraea remains watchful as Fia and I search through the bag she carried from the carriage. It is mostly just filled with the softer clothes suitable for sleeping in.


    Now dressed in a smaller and looser gown, Fia claims an entire petal for herself. She quickly spreads herself out. I like to think she enjoys having so much space to herself.


    For me there is little more than undressing needed. I find myself seated in front of the same mirror as before when it comes to removing my boots.


    Were it not for a robed Cerya attempting to pry me away from my reflection, I suspect I would have sat there until everyone else fell asleep.


    When it comes to discussing sleeping arrangements, neither of Cerya or I seem able to bring it up. But it is clear enough in her determined expression that I do not brood overly long.


    Looking to Astraea for support only gets me a clearly amused expression.


    I hold out my hand to Cerya, which she takes and squeezes thankfully.


    Taking the lead, I guide Cerya to a space between two petals opposite from my dolls. I sit on one.


    Cerya remains standing, our gazes transfixed on each other¡¯s hand. I give hers a gentle squeeze before nodding to the petal alongside mine.


    A moment passes. Cerya shakes her head.


    My free hand pats the petal I am seated on. This time I tug at Cerya¡¯s hand.


    Cerya follows through, joining me on my petal.


    She stares at me for a long moment in thought before tugging her side of the petal around her. ¡°You¡¯ll understand soon enough, but so many here have felt disposable of late.¡±


    I test my petal¡¯s edge, finding it easily gives way if I put a little effort into lifting. The act of closing the petal around us leaves both intimately close.


    Cerya¡¯s cheeks redden. ¡°I wanted to thank you. The gentleness that you and yours so casually share means a lot to see. That you would extend that to me¡­¡±


    I nod, as the words of another find renewed value by passing through my lips. ¡°The hardest I have ever fought was to be kind and gentle with another. It goes against everything Vylia wants me to be. But it¡¯s worth it.¡±


    The next words die before leaving my throat. You¡¯re worth it.


    Unable to meet Cerya¡¯s gaze, I instinctively look down. Cerya responds by drawing me into her arms.


    And I let her.


    Before long, I find all my spare tension easing up.


    I feel¡­ Safe.


    Just thinking about it usually brings me immense discomfort.


    Normally I want to tense up, double check my surroundings, and put my back to a wall.


    But there is only Cerya and I curled up in this petal of bedding.


    Astraea has made no indication that she will stop watching over us all anytime soon. That alone should be reassuring enough.


    I want to tell Cerya that there is nothing wrong.


    But I know that¡¯s not true.


    Instead I reach for justifications. This is just how things are in Vylia.


    But I¡¯m not in Vylia anymore.


    This situation is so far outside my lived experience and the expectations that my siblings prepared me for. I¡¯m forced to come up with entirely new words that feel like they suit the situation.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad to be here.¡± I say.

 Chapter 7 – Moonlit Princess

    Astraea


    I close the door to Cerya¡¯s chamber long after everyone within falls asleep. Snapdragon never returned, but I got the sense she trusted me to keep watch.


    Knowing that I can be so quickly trusted with the safety of Cerya is no small gesture, even if it is a test.


    I carry the weight of such trust with pride long enough that I am content knowing everyone is well and truly asleep.


    But it would not do to neglect my own needs.


    Curiously, Theriya¡¯s door remains open, her flower bedchamber empty.


    Pale moonlight reaches through an open doorway from across the ritual chamber, its grasp reaching the center. Twelve equidistant stones lay inert within the moon¡¯s light.


    What vile words do those stones carry? Divorced from the context of harmonious intent and expression such rituals usually require, I shudder to think at the unpleasantness any such ritual circle might bring about.


    Taking care to stay beyond the reach of moonlight, I make my way to the side of the open door.


    Circling the room on my way there gives me a glimpse of what lies beyond. Silvered plantlife leaves little doubt to the nature of the Moonlight Garden exposed to the open night sky.


    These Lunarians take their name seriously.


    I tense up before projecting my voice into the room beyond.


    ¡°Theriya?¡±


    No response.


    I permit myself a sigh of relief. There is no need to subdue a lover-to-be who has exposed herself to unfiltered moonlight.


    I retreat from the ritual chamber and make for the stairs.


    Down I descend into the depths of the tree.


    Layered spirals in the darkness mark the wings and antennae of the second Seed Seer, Theriya. The only source of light is a blue topaz necklace being used to illuminate a scattering of open books. Her lower hands busy themselves with trimming unwanted growths from a misshapen wooden implement that has spent too much time in moonlight.


    Between the gemstones and wood both receiving raw moonlight treatment, I find myself frowning at the tools being crafted in this place.


    Theriya seizes that moment to turn, catching my visible disapproval. ¡°I will not submit to a routine that keeps me safely under guard. Mine is a task entrusted to no other. As such, the hours remain mine to keep.¡± She turns back to her work, her voice turning dismissive. ¡°You may find a petal and sleep if you wish.¡±


    It is enough to get a harmless laugh out of me. ¡°I would not ask you to, fair Seed Seer.¡± I motion to join her, not expecting her to care overly much.


    She does not until I disregard the seating in favor of sitting on the table itself. This gets a grin out of her. ¡°You¡¯re no creature of order, are you?¡±


    My laugh becomes a cackle. ¡°Order? There is no order in the empire that the Castellan maintains. Only manipulations passed off as such. But, these are familiar enough waters for me to carve out my own little crew.¡±


    Theriya¡¯s eyes narrow as she makes connections laid out for her. ¡°What is a pirate doing this far inland? And serving someone like Ayre?¡±


    Such a clever girl. A good fit, for what will soon be arrayed against them.


    I reign in the laughter, giving it to her plainly. ¡°I¡¯ve no love for sailing. Not anymore. Not under this moon of yours.¡±


    It takes her a moment to contemplate my words. The expanse of time I am suggesting is enough that she turns away from her task to regard me in full.


    From this direction, I can see that her lower hands wear gloves and she does not set the unshaped implement aside. Such unpleasant things, but I must reserve judgment for now.


    There was a reason I wanted to have this conversation as informally as possible.


    Theriya crosses her upper arms as her antennae twitch. ¡°Okay. Let¡¯s assume that I believe you can claim what you say. My question stands. What interest do you have in any of us? Either my sister or your little Prince-thing?¡±


    ¡°I do make it a point to not call them as such. Whether you come to care for them or not, I hope you will at least come to recognize what harms them.¡±


    Theriya holds my stare for a while longer before giving a disapproving click of the tongue. ¡°I take it Wyrmsbane was not enough for you? What¡¯s next? Felling an empire? The moon itself?¡±


    I smile, before reaching for a bowl of fruit, picking out something red with a rough exterior. ¡°I like to think of myself as a protector first and foremost.¡±


    ¡°Okay. I am back to focusing on Ayre. Why the fourteenth broodling? What makes them¡­ stand out?¡± She narrows her eyes, coming so close that I might as well give her an answer.


    ¡°I have long operated by anchoring myself to those I take an interest in. Let¡¯s just say that Ayre has no reason to be as they are, but in a familiar way. They remind me of how I used to be. One must wonder how either of us turned out to be redeemable considering the kind of tyrants and monsters who raised us.¡±


    A slight change in posture, regarding me with interest now. ¡°I see.¡±


    I feign disinterest, looking over the fruit in hand.


    She holds my gaze, not returning to her craft.


    I make a show of dexterously stripping the fruit¡¯s hide before sinking my teeth into exposed flesh. Only then do my eyes search for hers. ¡°I really hope you do. Cerya and Snapdragon are already beginning to influence them.¡±


    Theriya knits her brows in a moment of quiet contemplation. And then she goes unnaturally still. ¡°We have been handed an appetizer intended to lower our guard. The poisoned gift is yet to come.¡±


    Satisfied, I make it a point to eye the room around me. ¡°Where has the dutiful little Snapdragon gone, I wonder?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s returned to her duties. We are nearing a full moon.¡± Theriya draws out the words, realization setting in.


    No Watcher can be spared, of course.


    A thought comes to mind. It is perhaps a touch manipulative, but that just means it should come from Amari and not me.


    I can plant the seed, at least. ¡°A shame, that. I cannot protect Ayre and the gates both.¡±


    Theriya is uncertain what to make of that. When I offer her nothing further, her eyes turn back to the books arranged before her. ¡°Ayre seemed uncertain of themselves. Are they not aware that Lunarians and Vylians have a history of being uniquely compatible in our circumstances?¡± She looks up, searching for a response or expression that will provide some reassurance.


    ¡°I¡¯m just a pirate turned Sworn Blade, remember?¡± I say, offering what is surely a frustrating non-answer.


    Theriya bites at a nail, her brows furrowing again. ¡°I will¡­ make some arrangements. Just to be sure.¡±


    Having achieved everything I could have wanted, I leave Theriya with parting words to dwell on. ¡°In my experience, tyrannical parents have an annoying tendency to reassert control once they realize something valuable no longer responds to how they have conditioned it.¡±


    Theriya lets out a dismissive huff. ¡°The Castellan¡¯s Blood Hunger that is shared by her children is well documented. We know what we are getting into.¡± Her lower hands return to the task of carving away unwanted growths with her knife.


    Satisfied, I leap from the table and onto my feet. ¡°Right. I¡¯ll intrude on your time no longer. Ayre shall remain in your care for tonight.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s no trouble. If anything, I¡¯m the-¡± Theriya¡¯s words die in her throat as she realizes I am headed downstairs.


    Towards the exit.


    Theriya makes a frustrated noise before rising from her seat with purpose.


    Her feet descend the stairs in the darkness with a familiarity that I lack.


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    Unfortunately for her, I am intending to walk where she cannot follow.


    Theirya catches up to me as I reach the bottom floor.


    ¡°Where are you¡­¡± Her words turn into a shout. ¡°Stop! What are you doing?¡±


    I throw open the door, opening the room¡¯s interior to direct moonlight. Just before stepping into the light, I turn to give the princess a smile. ¡°I need to see a fox before she convinces herself to flee at morning¡¯s light.¡±


    One step into the light and Theriya¡¯s protests are immediately drowned out by the moon attempting to curry my favor.


    It would be effortless to spill the princess¡¯s blood. I would need only to turn and¡­


    I feel my goddess tap into the bond we share, spanning an unknown distance to caress her champion¡¯s cheek. With my mind freed from unwanted suggestions, I cup my hand to hers as I am redeemed.


    All of this, dangerously within view of Theriya. Something to deal with in the morning, I suppose.


    The moon beckons as I make my way towards the empty streets, but I have served my divine muse time and again for far too long for her to even consider letting me slip from her grasp.


    What is a distant moon¡¯s whispers to one whose worship has earned her the lasting love of her divine patron?


    I have been so many things, to so many different people.


    A monster beloved by my cruel parents.


    Captain of the Chimaera¡¯s Mirage.


    Lady Wyrmsbane.


    Midnight¡¯s Herald for my divine lover of outcasts.


    And now, Sworn Blade to the precious young Ayre.


    I arrive at my destination and shake off my divine lover¡¯s embrace, but not before expressing my favor with a show of intimate affection. I press my lips to the divine hands that remade me.


    To openly court the old gods in this day and age is to invite ruination by Vylian and Lunarian alike.


    Fingers cast in a nostalgic shade of violet motion to caress my cheek. I lean into her touch, unable to resist wondering how few of my lover¡¯s worshippers remain.


    I cannot hold her gaze for long. Not when any number of Lunarians could stand on the other side of this door.


    With her presence dismissed, the moon redoubles its efforts to tempt me with how much suspicion a little massacre would erase from Ayre and I.


    I punch a hole through a wooden door, reach through, and unbar it from the outside.


    Lunarians are replaceable. The Vylians would¡­


    It takes a concerted effort of will to shake off the outside influence without the divine protection extended by my goddess, but I have long since tempered my will to harm only those who provoke me.


    It helps that my new body no longer craves consuming the meat and blood of living creatures.


    Why should the moon, which has been reduced to a dead thing, be allowed to succeed where entire pantheons of deities have failed?


    Lady Midnight alone has earned the command over the very breath from my lungs.


    Stepping out of the moonlight, I find time to gather myself and prove to everyone within that I am not about to mindlessly shed blood at the moon¡¯s command.


    Everywhere I look, Lunarians adorned with gemstone implements consider leveling them at me before deciding I lack the feral aggression of someone who has succumbed to the moon¡¯s bloodlust.


    That they would even think to level such unimaginative weapons at me gets under my skin.


    How much further will this world stray from divine acts of creation and passion? Proper workings should require a relationship with a divine that inspires an invoker to bring a creation into being through an imaginative interpretation of expression!


    Art is meant to challenge and change us. Emotions are meant to be celebrated in the resonance we feel in experiencing them. They should be allowed to change us freely and often.


    Emotional resonance is not meant to be counted by the hundreds and jammed into unchanging stones capable only of singular outputs defined by the cutting of the gem and shape of the implement. Any who use gemstone implements should aspire to more than being limited to a mono color of expression averaging out entire spectrums of vibrant emotions contained within.


    The room is silent for how many Lunarians have turned their attention to me. But none of these blank slates mean anything to me.


    Why should I care for people who replaced their divine muse with a dead thing that inflicts upon the world a droning refrain calling for blood without any meaning?


    What the Lunarians have done is a senseless debasement of everything that came before. But I should probably not so readily condemn children to parents with such a limited vision for the future.


    All of this is neither here nor there. I have come seeking a member of a race still recognizable to me. Those who kin beasts have had enough sense to maintain a relationship with their divine muse.


    The day that Vylians or Lunarians set sail will be the day I take up piracy once more.


    My eyes search the crowd.


    Amari draws my attention with shouted words from afar. ¡°Astraea! You can¡¯t go around startling us like that!¡± The fox kin¡¯s fur has turned a luxurious white after what must have been a refreshing bath. She raises a flask of red liquid in my direction.


    ¡°Good evening, Amari.¡± I say, making my way to her table.


    ¡°You could have warned me that you intended to show up! I could have convinced them to leave the door unlocked.¡± She muses aloud, much to the grumbling of a number of Lunarians.


    I offer Amari a warm and tender smile that I reserve for few. ¡°We both know you would have fled town had you known I could reach you under the light of a nearly full moon. No. I can only pull this trick once.¡±


    Amari tries to sell me with a relaxed expression, but her tail remains tense and motionless ¡°What could you possibly want with little ole me?¡±


    ¡°Oh, nothing major.¡± I say. ¡°Not for someone as well connected as you. All I ask is that when you decide to move on, that you pass on word from home.¡± My serious expression communicates what is not fit for Lunarian ears.


    I want Amari to give me advance warning of the Castellan making any moves in our direction.


    The vulpine girl narrows her eyes. ¡°For how long? My services don¡¯t come cheap.¡±


    Unimpressed, I give her a flat look. ¡°As indefinitely as it is feasible to do so. I¡¯ll pay from my own coffers.¡±


    A pause. ¡°I seem to have left my parchment in my room.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay.¡± I say, producing a contract that I began to prepare the moment I learned of the Castellan¡¯s plans to barter Ayre away. ¡°I came prepared.¡±


    Amari¡¯s tail twitches.


    I had her concern before.


    But now I have her curiosity.


    ¡°It only needs your signature, a form of payment, and an amount of your choosing. You¡¯ll be able to take that to any branch run by one of my old flames and they will ensure you are compensated in full.¡±


    Amari snatches the contract to confirm what I have outlined. She is even kind enough to only mouth the final words so that they are not overheard by an undesirable party.


    Princess Astraea Bonefist of the Fevir Sea Trading Company


    I will never understand why Sosima kept me on the books under my old family name and station. Nostalgia never maintained a grip on me and I would never respect anyone who relies on familial recognition alone to get their point across.


    Amari does not clarify if her asking price is reasonable and I do not check.


    Stressing over the details can be someone else¡¯s heartache. I have someone that needs to be protected.


    To that end, there are no lengths I will not go to.


    There is no one I will not use or break to achieve my desired ends.


    This is not a healthy way to spend one¡¯s long years. I realize this, but I have made my peace with how recklessly I shall continue to live my life.


    Hopefully young Ayre learns from my words and not the actions I take under the cover of night.


    ¡°I will see it done.¡± Amari says, all prim and proper-like now that she realizes I have been generous to make up for my alarming appearance. ¡°Is there anything else you would ask of me?¡±


    ¡°To allow me to make up for startling you.¡± I say, placing further coin on the table.


    All it takes is a few dozen drinks and Amari¡¯s tail resumes its carefree swaying.


    Meanwhile I use that time attempting to drown my own concerns in Lunarian spirits.


    I have my own needs. But my cravings for the desire of others need not interfere with Ayre¡¯s delicately forming relationships.


    It would be better if Ayre is given the time they need to relearn how to form and navigate intimate bonds with others. Their dolls mean well, but there is a guiding influence on all of their development that was clearly taken from them.


    I don¡¯t know who Ayre lost in their formative years, but I recognize the shape of its grip on them in quiet moments when they doubt what they are capable of.


    The details of the Castellan¡¯s parasitic plot might elude me, but I already have my suspicions about which divine muse it taps into.


    If I am right, Ayre is capable of becoming so much more than they know.


    Not a day passes that I do not mourn the loss of being able to heal with a touch and a breath of divine life.


    In place of a divine muse that held the domain of healing, a revolving pantheon of twenty life-drinking monsters and their god slayer of a brood mother feed at others¡¯ expense.


    Before I can discover how many drinks it takes to drown my sorrow, I allow Amari to guide me into her room for the night.


    She proves to be a more inexperienced lover than expected.


    As a creature that feeds on desire, it is always disappointing to expect experience and find someone wanting.


    Lately I have taken to turning such nights into opportunities to teach lessons on the subject, even if I rarely get to see the fruits of my labor flourish.


    Maybe I should never have doubted. Amari surprises me by proving to me that she can be a dedicated student.


    Our bouts of intimate explorations reach a point that I am relieved my armor can be ported away at the touch of a keystone. Each piece of Onyx armor is transported to a vault lined with the ground down remains of each keystone¡¯s sister gem.


    It is a shame that the emotional resonance feeding current day keystones could not be anything other than despair and longing for those who will never come back to us.


    Engaging with such a gross harvesting of the harm Vylia inflicts in order to avoid drawing attention to myself is¡­ frustrating, to say the least. But with each worshiper of the old faith that perishes, the world of divine inspiration and artistic expression makes way for uniform expressions that serve as imperial tools.


    Amari expressing visible delight at the convenience of my armor disappearing with the touch of a stone makes me hesitant to answer any questions she might have.


    ¡°Ooooh, hammer space.¡± Amari practically barks with amusement, choosing a colloquial term.


    I grunt as I massage muscles long confined by a day of wearing the armor. ¡°I¡¯m never going to call it that.¡± Although the commentary on the purpose of my gemstones is noted.


    Amari giggles, getting to take in the body crafted for me by my goddess.


    Ditching my armor reveals the tail I keep hidden.


    Freshly freed from being wrapped around my thigh, I return a kind of affection that Amari confessed to rarely receiving herself. My tail coils around Amari¡¯s leg before leveraging it to draw her close. Only then does my spade shaped tip playfully rub at her inner thigh.


    It is enough to reduce her to titters all over again.


    Whenever Amari needs space, she fends me off with a playful bat of her luxuriously fluffy tail.


    She and I continue the back and forth of her studies long into the night, with Amari beginning to very clearly communicate her consent and desire to take over the pace.


    Unlike Ayre, my feeding only leaves my partners more exhausted than normal. Amari does not break convention by expressing discontent with this.


    Her whispers already confess a longing to sleep in until the moon¡¯s influence fades from the world.


    For my part, I come away satisfied as my partner has displayed healthier ways to negotiate intimacy.


    Amari also proves to be a notable delight to cuddle with once our play comes to an end.


    It is hard to complain. When was the last time I slept with a lover with whom we could each sleep wrapped in the other¡¯s tails?


    Too long.


    I sleep knowing that I must continue to disappoint my remaining bound beloved in favor of reaffirming my goddess¡¯s continued existence.


    I arrived too late to save some Vylian outcast named Lenore. But I have convinced my muse that Ayre can yet be redeemed in her place.


    But how do I ask Ayre about the nightly terrors that come for them in the night and not be pushed away?


    How do I convince someone who sees hope as a weakness that there is salvation to be found in following a diminishing pantheon of deities. One their Castellan is dedicated to slaying?


    I can do miracles.


    But how do I stop a world from crumbling out from beneath me?

 Chapter 8 - Resonance Extraction

    Ayre


    There is no one sharing a petal with me when I wake.


    Almost immediately I become aware of a¡­ dampness. Feeling around me as I sit up to get my bearings, it is clear that the whole petal is wet with something like trace amounts of¡­ I¡¯m not sure what. Whatever it is, it has replaced any lingering sweat, grime, or dried blood from the night before.


    Curious, maybe even concerning.


    ¡°I don¡¯t agree with this.¡± Cerya speaks in a hushed tone. She is standing in the doorway, arms crossed as she addresses someone outside the room.


    ¡°I¡¯m not asking you.¡± Theriya pushes past her sister to lock eyes with me. ¡°Oh good. You¡¯re awake.¡±


    I¡¯m still trying to get my bearings as the Seed Seer crosses over to loom over me. A glance to the side confirms that my dolls are asleep and unharmed. Noticing this, Theriya lowers her voice to a harsh whisper. ¡°What you said before. You meant it?¡±


    I blink apprehensively. ¡°I¡¯m not sure what you¡¯re referring to, but yeah. Whatever you all need from me. I¡¯m committed to this, remember?¡±


    Theriya narrows her eyes, but I get the sense that it isn¡¯t an attempt to scrutinize my words.


    She hasn¡¯t slept.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to give you instructions.¡± Theriya hisses, before swaying unsteadily. ¡°You¡¯re going to follow them.¡±


    ¡°I will.¡± I say, holding her gaze.


    Cerya crosses the room to join us, but Theriya holds up a hand, keeping her sister at arm¡¯s length.


    ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll lay down. But this is important.¡± Theriya falls into the petal alongside me before growling with annoyance. She affixes Cerya with an annoyed look before jabbing a finger in my direction. ¡°They know how gemstone implements work. I left fresh implements with unfilled gemstones on the table downstairs, in case you get into trouble. Just see to it that the stones are filled to capacity by moonrise.¡± There is a moment of doubt there, at the end.


    Both sisters regard me with interest.


    I take that as an opportunity to stretch my limbs and ease myself to my feet. Becoming aware of my body must show on my face, as Cerya starts to look concerned. Theriya looks away.


    ¡°Are you okay with this, Ayre?¡± Cerya asks.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about me. If this is what must be done, I¡¯ll see it done.¡± I gesture dismissively, brushing off Cerya¡¯s concern. ¡°But if something happened last night¡­¡± I allow my words to trail off, thinking of a more specific question I could ask. ¡°Why the rush?¡±


    Theriya sighs. ¡°Ask a Watcher. Done all I can. Your turn.¡± Theriya pulls the petal of her bedding closed around her.


    I decide to take her non answer as answer enough. Before stepping outside I fetch my shawl, breeches, and step into my boots. I watch for every flinch and deepening of concern in Cerya¡¯s expression as I undo and tighten the bindings that cover my scars.


    If she didn¡¯t before, Cerya knows for sure now. My legs and arms are not my own.


    But I can¡¯t think about that. Not now.


    There is a very specific reason the Lunarians maintain a role of martially inclined youths dedicated to watching the walls at night. Everyone has to deal with the Moon¡¯s bloodlust. Entire lessons were carved into my instruction back at the castle that contrasted with what could be learned from books.


    Under moonlight, even prey animals and plants can turn actively malicious. If it is capable of spilling blood, it is dangerous. And that doesn¡¯t even touch on the transformative effects the moon¡¯s influence has in constantly reinforcing changes that facilitate bloodshed in all living things exposed to it.


    Cerya joins me moments later, midway through the act of exchanging a small robe for one more luxurious and long.


    I notice the spot on her arm that rubbed away a drop of my blood.


    There is nothing there. ¡°Do I need to worry about the flower we slept on last night?¡±


    I get a weak smile in reply. ¡°It doesn¡¯t feed on anything of consequence. Sweat, bugs¡­¡±


    ¡°My blood?¡± I say, making it a question.


    ¡°Oh.¡± Cerya says, drawing a finger to her lips in contemplation. ¡°I¡¯ll have to get back to you. We have some recorded entries on the effects of consuming Vylian blood, but it¡¯s not something that sticks out in my mind.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± I relent, letting this drop for now in favor of addressing potential external threats. ¡°You were awake before me. Did you get anything else out of Theriya?¡±


    Cerya shakes her head. ¡°Not really. Most of her projects are long term. It is notable that these gemstones and implements are new and exist outside our quota.¡±


    I pause at that. There are a number of possibilities there. ¡°Redundancies? An answer to a recent threat?¡±


    Cerya latches onto that second one. ¡°If I had to guess, she crafted a response to whatever most likely happened at the gates last night.¡±


    ¡°The Watchers. Are they going to be cooperative? Resonance extraction can be¡­ unpleasant.¡±


    I am treated to a nervous look. ¡°I imagine you¡¯ll want to look for Snapdragon.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re in agreement then. Shall you be joining me in finding out if your protector is unharmed?¡±


    The horned Seed Seer bites at her lip.


    A curious expression, but one that holds a very different connotation for Vylians. I am not sure what to make of it in this instance.


    ¡°I shouldn¡¯t.¡± She says. ¡°Wait for me downstairs anyway?¡±


    I nod dutifully. ¡°I¡¯ll figure out food for the both of us then.¡±


    Fruits and greens make up the bulk of readily available food. I recognize almost none of it, deciding to instead sear the first fish I find. Eventually I settle for picking a fruit of each color and waiting on Cerya to critique the selection.


    When I arrive at the table, I find an unrolled bundle of fabric. Six smooth lengths of carved wooden implements with indentations in which to affix gemstones await my perusal.


    Each ends in a different shaped tip that alters how the final effect will be delivered. None of them have a wide end typically used for larger scale battlefield applications. As far as I can tell, almost all of these are focused on applying something to a singular target.


    The main exception is one with sharp jagged twists that I suspect will rebound in some way.


    Considering that protecting their creation is my primary stated role, it might be worth asking if I can peruse some books on the subject. It will be good to brush up on my understanding of the nuances if it will allow me to better serve.


    Upon close inspection, none of them show the gnarled, thorned, or signs of compromise that come from the moon reshaping them in a way that results in harm to the wielder.


    My admittedly limited but practical understanding of such things suggests that these six implements should be safe to use. That Theriya crafted spare implements is something I can appreciate. It is better that the casting implement bear the backlash of harnessing storms of emotions contained within a gemstone than me.


    I¡¯ve got enough unwanted alterations to my body to worry about.


    Although I suppose it does not mean these implements can¡¯t be altered later. Moonlight sure increases the potency of implements. But that just means such tools don¡¯t last.


    And when they inevitably break, my understanding is that the wielders tend to as well.


    Now that I think about it, I can¡¯t say I¡¯ve ever heard of a Moon Wrought implement used for large scale applications. What kind of backlash would such an implement cause?


    There¡¯s probably a reason for that beyond the obvious. Why create something to help deal with superior numbers when we are the ones that outnumber our enemies?


    Before I can untie a pouch of an appropriate size to hold gemstones and check their resonance levels, I hear Cerya begin to descend the staircase. ¡°Have you seen Astraea?¡±


    ¡°She disappears sometimes.¡± I say.


    ¡°At night.¡± Cerya says, giving me a dubious look.


    ¡°I have¡­ never left the castle until being sent here.¡± I say with a shrug, not really knowing what more to say. ¡°I trust Astraea to¡­ know what she is doing.¡±


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    That was half as reassuring as I intended. But I guess after last night, I might have to get used to just being vulnerable with Cerya on a regular basis.


    Cerya gives me a look that suggests she really wants to press me on it. But she doesn¡¯t.


    After a few moments, I decide to encourage her. ¡°You can ask.¡±


    With a sigh, Cerya shakes her head. ¡°I¡¯m not sure if I am reading you right. There are moments I see you express an ease of affection with Astraea. A part of me wishes it was safe to want that for myself.¡±


    I can¡¯t help but feel my gaze fall to the floor. ¡°Astraea just¡­ understands, somehow. She got this look in her eye once. I don¡¯t understand it. The way that you, Snapdragon, and Astraea treat me is just¡­ all wrong.¡±


    I don¡¯t deserve the benefit of the doubt unless they are scheming for ways to put an end to me and my siblings.


    I look up, and I don¡¯t know if I¡¯m capable of hope, but I offer Cerya a look of regret that I just know is going to cost me. If Astraea is confident that things will get better, I want to believe it. ¡°A part of me wants to be wrong.¡±


    The sad smile that Cerya offers me is of no surprise. But her words are puzzling. ¡°Understanding and believing are two entirely different things, I¡¯m afraid. I wish I had advice I could give, but Snapdragon is the believer. It just so happens that our guardians have this frustrating habit of protecting us from ourselves.¡±


    I laugh with contempt for the absurdity of it all. It¡¯s been a while since I have wanted to make additions to my journal. But I can already tell that I¡¯m going to have to make time for it.


    ¡°What¡¯s so funny, if I might ask?¡± Cerya asks, allowing her smile to look not so sad anymore.


    I shake my head, feeling the need to fend off some matters for another time. ¡°It¡¯s personal. Maybe a little silly. But you¡¯ve made me want to indulge in an old habit. If you don¡¯t mind, I¡¯d like to pretend you¡¯re not in the room again later. This is¡­ something that I¡¯m not sure I¡¯m ready to share but¡­¡± I hesitate.


    Cerya fills in the blanks. ¡°Sometimes it is healthier for us to not keep things to ourselves. If there¡¯s ever anything you need to get off your chest, we can make time for it.¡±


    ¡°I¡­ appreciate that.¡± I say, laughing easier this time.


    Cerya looks like she really wants to press me further, but ends up shaking her head. My bound decides instead to critique my food choices. ¡°We¡¯re going to need to eat on the way. Let me¡­ pick out less demanding fruits to safely prepare and eat, since you clearly had a preference for fruit.¡±


    I nod, not trusting myself to say anything more.


    Instead I distract myself by rolling up the bundle of casting implements. With that done, I take a peek at the gemstones.


    Focusing on them turns out to be a mistake.


    Pain.


    Despair.


    Worthlessness.


    ¡°Wretch¡­ not now!¡± I gasp, pulling my hand from the bag and grasping at my chest in a vain attempt to steady my breathing.


    My capacity to focus on the room around me goes in and out as the air becomes thick and hard to breathe.


    No. That¡¯s not true.


    I¡¯m panicking, struggling to get lungfuls of air.


    I am stronger than this.


    Trying to think about anything else, I shove the bag of stones away from me.


    Not the most unpleasant experience I¡¯ve been through, I tell myself.


    But the day¡¯s purpose has become clear. I am going to need to extract all three of those resonances out of any Lunarian I can find.


    That these gemstones already feel half full to me is concerning. I am not going to want to touch them directly by the time I am done filling them.


    Cerya returns a few moments later, having replaced half of my selection with smoother textured fruits. She gives me and the open bag of gemstones a sympathetic look, but we don¡¯t make a conversation of it.


    She hooks an arm around mine before guiding me to the barracks occupied by the Thorned Watchers.


    Cerya and I are not a second through the door before it becomes clear that comfort and curatives are abundant for the Thorned Watchers who weathered last night¡¯s watch. Thankfully, very little of it has been applied beyond stabilizing the worst cases.


    Snapdragon is nowhere to be seen. All but one of the Watchers present is very intentionally tied down to a bed with leather straps.


    Which is just as well. By the time I¡¯m done, I will likely need to redress some wounds.


    A head of green hair snaps to our attention. The only Watcher on their feet begins to stride towards us with purpose.


    I take the opportunity to greet him, remembering Snapdragon¡¯s advice. ¡°Thorned Watcher, Second Seed. What happened last night?¡±


    Second comes to a halt just out of arm¡¯s reach. ¡°Seed Seer Cerya. Fourteenth Prince Ayre.¡± Second says, looking us over with tired eyes. ¡°Beasts attacked. They were repelled.¡±


    Cerya frowns. ¡°I see everyone here but First, Third, and Nineteen.¡±


    Second glowers. ¡°First Seed is overseeing repairs to the gate. Third is delivering a report to the Howling Watchers. Nineteen has been dealt with.¡±


    I raise an eyebrow, casting a questioning look at Cerya.


    The tension in Cerya¡¯s grip around a basket carrying the remains of our meal lessens.


    My eyes turn back to Second. Knowing that Snapdragon is okay, my thoughts wander elsewhere. It occurs to me that I see no real resemblance between him and Third. Were it not for their uniforms, all of the Watchers would look subtly different.


    So many questions that Second would likely find frivolous linger in my mind. ¡°What kind of beasts?¡± I ask, aiming my curiosity somewhere more useful.


    Second Seed¡¯s jaw tightens, casting an accusatory glance at Cerya that goes unaddressed. He then launches into an annoyed explanation. ¡°We have been calling them Cinder Blights. They are a breed of scavenger displaced by a recent conquest about two eclipses past, by Vylians no less, and have become something of a menace to the local ecosystem.¡±


    An annoying coincidence, that. Two eclipses ago, a brother of mine returned from a successful conquest to regale to me all about a kind of creature he would love to cast into the depths.


    Vylia has so many marked occasions that my dolls and I have been routinely punished for not knowing and properly celebrating with sufficiently perceived reverence.


    But how could I forget the day of my Twelfth brother¡¯s greatest triumph?


    Having to systematically sever every limb was a particular fixation for this brother of mine.


    Cerya bites her lip as my arm tenses up and begins to shake. ¡°They¡­ spread a sort of infection that causes a fever. If not dealt with¡­¡±


    ¡°You get more Cinder Blights.¡± Second hisses.


    Cerya averts her gaze.


    I think I already know where this is going, but I need to know. ¡°This Nineteen. Did they succumb to this infection or¡­¡±


    ¡°I dealt with him before he became an issue. Course without an arm with which to serve, he will be useless to us as a Watcher.¡± Second says with annoyance. ¡°Enough of your questions. See to your duties and leave me to mine.¡± Thorned Watcher Second Seed says before pushing past us to storm out of the building.


    I receive an apologetic smile from Cerya.


    Still within earshot, I decide to save the questions for later. There is no hiding the venom in my voice. ¡°Pick your poison.¡± I say with a mismatched grin for the occasion. ¡°Pain, Despair, or Worthlessness?¡±


    Cerya¡¯s raises eyebrows at my choice of words. ¡°I¡¯ll¡­ see to the crestfallen.¡± She lets go of my arm to hold out a hand.


    I reach into the gemstone pouch, recognizing the resonance by sense of touch alone. A familiar weight eases the moment I drop the dark opal into Cerya¡¯s hand.


    ¡°I¡¯ll see to the wounded then.¡± I say, fishing out a red garnet that I carry with ease.


    One by one, I approach each member of the Thorned Watchers, pressing the garnet to their wound. Each and every Watcher is asked to describe their injury to me. I keep my voice gentle, asking follow up questions in an effort to coax them to linger on the moment of injury.


    By my fourth watcher, it quickly becomes clear that there is not enough pain in this room to fill the garnet to capacity. I would be lucky to make it three quarters of the way.


    I eye the wound in the leg of the Watcher in front of me. ¡°Seventeen, you say a quill punched through your leg?¡±


    I get a weak nod from the bound Watcher.


    ¡°Like this?¡± I say, digging a pointed end of the garnet into the Watcher¡¯s wound.


    The cries of the Watcher cause the garnet to glow with a much more usable amount of resonance. Well, that and extract no small amount of blood. But that is what applying fresh binding is for. I make sure it is nice and tight, getting one last little shimmer out of the garnet.


    When I search for Cerya¡¯s gaze, I do not find disapproval.


    Seizing the commotion I am causing as an opportunity, her gaze sweeps over the Watchers. I follow her gaze, identifying those most frightened by my method of enhanced resonance extraction.


    Cerya makes her way over to kneel beside the most frightened Watcher, coaxing out their fears and sorrows with a gentle patience and a whispered exchange.


    I note a wet rag that Cerya is using to wipe at the foreheads of those under her care. Only then does it occur to me that the leather bindings may not be here for my purposes of optimal resonance extraction, but to restrain potential threats.


    If Nineteen were here, would I be able to play the part of the cruel Vylian noble?


    No. I can hardly stand the sight of myself in the mirror most days.


    Sighing, I make an effort to provide what comforts I can. If helping with the fever saves or comforts even a couple Watchers who might otherwise not make it, maybe I can make up for the cruelty of the garnet¡¯s appetite for pain.


    When it becomes clear that I have extracted all the resonance I am going to get out of the captive Watchers, I count the lingering stares that still verge on the murderous.


    Cerya approaches me. ¡°You might want to leave until I finish up.¡±


    I look down at the bloodied stone in my hand. So light despite only being three quarters of the way to full. ¡°What¡¯s the point?¡± I say with an antagonistic scowl. With a sigh, I bury my doubts. ¡°If this is all they are worth, why should I care what any of these Watchers think of me?¡±


    With all eyes on me now, my free hand slips into the gemstone pouch. ¡°I thought I¡¯d play nice. Be agreeable. Address you by your numbered titles. But if you¡¯re all going to be laid low or killed in a single night, why should I care?¡± I say, my voice dripping with venom as I mean every word.


    They¡¯re a captive audience. One glance tells me even Cerya is not entirely sure how to address my outburst.


    I perch myself on the end of an empty cot with a sigh, allowing what harsh words come from the Lunarians in reply. Much of it is lost in the cacophony of overlapping voices, but I take away the highlights.


    ¡°Depths spawn!¡±


    ¡°Blood sucking scavenger!¡±


    ¡°Pallid fiend!¡±


    When the voices die down, I remind myself that I am antagonizing sick and injured people.


    My shoulders sag at the thought.


    It is not like anyone here can just drink from a readily available supply of blood and politely ask their Vylian parasite to stitch them back together.


    Inconsiderate.


    Foolish wretch of a Prince.


    I just¡­ thought I could make this work.


    Force it, if I have to.


    Bleed out every drop of necessary resonance into these stones.


    But that¡¯s just how my siblings would act.


    And I can¡¯t even trust myself to get that right.


    How am I going to protect my dolls at this rate?


    I¡¯ve only just started to open up to Cerya. But if this is how I am going to treat the rest of my allies, my siblings are likely to kill us all in a few nights anyway.


    If there is any consolation from having to carry out this wretched affair, it is knowing that Twelve will most assuredly be one of the siblings to pay me a visit. Especially if one of his favorite abominations to hunt is causing the Lunarians problems.


    Might as well commit at this point. I can try and do better elsewhere.


    As I rise to my feet, the nearest Watcher lets out a whimper. I give him a good look at my fangs. ¡°I¡¯d say rest up, but what¡¯s the point? I¡¯m sure my siblings will find better uses for your blood.¡±


    My eyes meet Cerya¡¯s. I don¡¯t really see a point in reading her expression or offering an apology.


    I turn away from her and make for the door. A red tourmaline glimmers in the palm of my hand, drinking deep from the depths of my self loathing.


    There¡¯s more where that came from.


    If shedding unneeded emotions is the route I am taking, I can fill the garnet while I am at it.


    I give the door a swift kick, delighting in the sharp pain that shoots through my leg and causes the garnet to resonate.


    The door swings open, revealing a furious Snapdragon on the other side.


    Her expression tells me everything I need to know.


    ¡°What did I say?¡± Snapdragon says with a snarl, her voice harsh and unlike before.


    Suddenly I am outside of Cerya and Theriya¡¯s ritual chamber. Snapdragon¡¯s voice fell to the quietest of whispers before entering.


    Do not make me regret this.


    The thought of being a disappointment to Snapdragon catches me off guard, hitting me like a punch to the gut. Worse, I see the brutish monster reflected in her eyes.


    ¡°You¡¯re coming with me.¡± She says bluntly, and I am struck by how it sounds like I am hearing another person.


    Someone named Third, and not Snapdragon.

 Chapter 9 – Root of the Problem

    Ayre


    Snapdragon, or Third, is unwilling to say anything more.


    I am left to ponder how this place is unlike my mother¡¯s castle.


    There is no executioner or taskmaster around every corner. Gone are the high ceilings of castle chambers, replaced with distant foliage of the massive tree spires that mark the settlement¡¯s center.


    Circles of stumps or rocks used for outdoor meetings are alarmingly public.


    The Castellan may have allowed spacious courts for events of interest, but I am used to matters of importance being conducted in smoke-filled chambers where all the scheming happens.


    By comparison, everything here is so¡­ exposed.


    Were my ears anything like Third¡¯s, or I willing to prompt my parasite, I could be learning so much from all the overlapping discussions.


    Deciding against bloodshed, I settle for picking up on surface level details.


    I quickly gather that Lunarians largely come and go as clearly defined groups assembled for a purpose. A group of Lunarians carrying various cutting tools is ahead of where Third is taking me, reporting on the morning¡¯s progress. They are getting lost in the details, negotiating needs versus resource allocations.


    Not once does the seated Lunarian, who towers over them despite remaining seated upon the center stone, mention a specific time or measurement of expected progress.


    This does not stop the cutters from glancing nervously at the half masked Watchers or Vylian Prince who arrived while they gave their report.


    With masks half the size of the Thorned Watchers, Third and I are treated to an arrangement of sneers as it becomes our turn to approach the towering Lunarian who is more tree bark than flesh.


    ¡°Forgive the request for arbitration, Grove Tender Mel¡¯Viora.¡± Third¡¯s voice is hard and stiff. ¡°As I informed the Howling Watchers, the Cinder Blights have rendered the Thorned Watchers bedridden. This engagement included blighted Spine Stitchers, meaning the Cinder Blight has taken root in caverns we dare not venture. While the Thorned Watchers recover, others will need to watch the walls.¡± It is moments like this that Snapdragon reminds me of when I am hungry and distrustful of my words, delivering clipped and direct statements of fact.


    ¡°You expect casualties if we do not rotate Watcher plantings.¡± Mel''Viora says, musing aloud.


    Hisses from whom I expect to be Howling Watchers in the half masks are silenced by a raised hand by the Grove Tender.


    ¡°Seed Seer Theriya proposes¡­ side stepping the matter entirely.¡± Third says nervously.


    ¡°Oh?¡± Mel¡¯Viora¡¯s eyes turn to me, her voice falling to a low purr. ¡°So this is why you have brought an unproven Seedling of a Prince with you.¡±


    ¡°It is.¡± Third says with hesitation before backing away.


    ¡°Before a full moon, no less.¡± Mel¡¯Viora hisses before beckoning for me to approach. ¡°Seedling Prince, you should know that I am the primary aggrieved party that your presence here is meant to pacify. As you are but a freshly sprouted seedling, know that I will be quick to discard you if you cannot protect a lowly pair of Seed Seers.¡±


    Third is the one to wince at Mel¡¯Viora¡¯s words.


    The self satisfied grin that twists through the barkskin expression of the Grove Tender is enough to remind myself that Snapdragon can only be Third to me so long as this entity or those who report to her are present.


    This is not the place I want to express familiarity, vulnerability, or the weakness of caring.


    I give Mel¡¯Viora and Third both looks of contempt. Stepping past Third, I approach the Grove Tender. Now is probably not the time to mention I have no experience in dealing with creatures exposed to the moon. Would a full moon be more potent? Or just widespread?


    I should probably stick to addressing her dismissiveness of me. ¡°If my Twelfth sibling has left behind a mess for you to clean up, you should know that I share your displeasure.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± Mel¡¯Viora almost looks amused. ¡°Of what interest are your petty familial power squabbles compared to my workings being disrupted?¡±


    Twelve took everything from me.


    I let the anger show in clenched fists.


    ¡°Only that his petty obsessions will work in your favor.¡± I say, biting back the certainty that I am going to have to reveal a vulnerability and pass it off as a strength.


    The inevitable words are delivered by Mel¡¯Viora with such visible delight. ¡°Prove it.¡±


    My nails dig into clothing and flesh alike.


    I tear it all away, cutting through chest bindings and discarding the shawl.


    Immediately I inhale the scent of my fresh blood and the world around me comes into stark focus.


    Tiny creaks sound as my actions draw out a reshaping of thick bark skin formed atop the Grove Tender¡¯s grinning lips. Her deep pools of amber eyes drink in my stitched together form with early signs of amusement.


    Moss and leaves that drape from the venerable Lunarian shift as she rises to their feet. Eye level for me doesn¡¯t even reach Lunarian¡¯s bellowing trunk of a chest.


    The sound of wood cracking from her bodily movements causes the ears of only the assembled Watchers to twitch, giving me a sense that very few Lunarians are subjected to the burden of heightened senses.


    Unlike me, they handle it well. I grind my teeth to drown it out with a sensory horror of my own making.


    What comes next causes me to flinch, shut my eyes, and block out the world.


    I feel every step she takes to close the distance between us. There is a density and strength to the Grove Tender that causes threads of hair on the back of my neck to extend.


    None of Lenore¡¯s bodily hairs function this way. Where my bodily functions end and hers refuse to begin is a thought I cannot stand to contemplate.


    And now this Grove Tender is a moment away from taking in all of it.


    But the approaching hand of the Grove Tender never arrives.


    My eyes snap open, gazing deep into those amber eyes of hers.


    When Mel¡¯Viora speaks, it is in a voice devoid of inflection. ¡°May I marvel at the horrors that have been done to you?¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡± I hesitate, unsure if I am allowed to say no. Thinking of the consequences, I decide to add an extra disquieting layer of honesty to my answer. ¡°I am uncertain if doing so would invite the Castellan¡¯s wrath. I was¡­ unconscious for much of this process.¡±


    Without missing a beat, Mel¡¯Viora sighs. ¡°It would be a shame to have to kill so many witnesses to the Castellan¡¯s secrets. Another time, perhaps.¡±


    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    ¡°Another time.¡± I say, quickly agreeing.


    ¡°This does of course mean that you are still unproven in my eyes.¡± Mel¡¯Viora¡¯s words cause so many Howling Watchers to adjust their stances.


    Not that I would need context to recognize a challenge.


    ¡°As much as I¡¯d love to take your Watchers¡¯ measure, is it wise to arrange the groups most likely to have the responsibility of protecting the grove against each other in a physical contest?¡±


    Another grin splits Mel''Viora¡¯s barkskin expression. ¡°Oh I¡¯m well aware of what my Howlers can do. You, on the other hand, are a depths spawned wretch that thinks you can replace twenty proud Watchers who have dedicated their lives to serving this grove we share.¡±


    Mel''Viora¡¯s eyes settle on Third, her grin widening.


    I take a step back, already attempting to better position myself for what comes next.


    ¡°In absence of a Seed Seer or the rest of her planting, the Third Thorn must find new ways to serve my grove. Little Seed Princeling. Remove this Thorn from my sight, alive, and I shall entrust you with the protection of my holdings.¡±


    Third, no, Snapdragon¡¯s eyes widen as I take her legs out from under her.


    In the same moment, spears leave the hands of multiple Howling Watchers.


    Spears soar overhead as I bend down, sliding arms underneath Snapdragon to catch her. Our eyes meet.


    ¡°Sorry.¡± I say.


    ¡°Behind you.¡± Snapdragon manages to say before gasping in surprise.


    As nice as it is to hear a hint of her soft voice, her words come too late.


    What feels like the full weight of a tree connects with my back, knocking me off balance and sending both Snapdragon and I spinning through the air.


    My side connects with the ground as I pull Snapdragon tightly to me.


    Looking up, I find my warm blood paints the ground between me and Mel¡¯Viora¡¯s extended arm.


    Not content to sit idly by, the Grove Tender lets out an amused chortle. ¡°You¡¯re going to have to stay on the move if you wish to do the job of twenty Watchers.¡± Her eyes lower to address Snapdragon cradled in my arms. ¡°I already need to replace one of your Thorns. Are you content to sit by and make it two?¡±


    I release Snapdragon from my embrace.


    She reaches for one of the thrown spears.


    I scramble to my feet as Mel''Viora begins to stride closer, winding up for another swing.


    My bleeding stops, no doubt the work of my parasite.


    The Howling Watchers are circling wide to avoid throwing spears at Mel¡¯Viora and not be caught standing still for Snapdragon¡¯s return throw.


    My parasite and I brace for the flurry of violence to come.


    Mel¡¯Viora is bigger, stronger, and that reach of hers is cause for concern.


    I weave past the first two blows, not allowing myself to wince at how I still feel them when they pass by.


    Good. I¡¯m quicker.


    My nails rake at the wood of her arm to little effect.


    Which is alarming. I¡¯m used to tearing my prey apart.


    Roots suddenly sprout from the ground at some unseen command, allowing Mel¡¯Viora to redirect her momentum. She launches into a shoulder charge that knocks me stumbling backwards.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t your hunting grounds, little Seed Prince.¡± Mel¡¯Viora purrs with amusement.


    She invites me to rise to my feet before beginning to close the gap.


    In that time I catch Snapdragon having successfully impaled a Howling Watcher¡¯s leg into the dirt with a hurled spear. Other Howlers have prioritized helping the first.


    The effect is cutting the number of opponents Snapdragon has to worry about in half.


    I pivot and run in Snapdragon¡¯s direction. This puts the approaching Mel¡¯Viora between us and another Howling Watcher looking for an opportunity to throw a spear.


    I spare a moment to scoop up another of the first spears to be thrown. The spear is lighter than I expect it to be, with a smaller point than what I am used to. No wonder they are throwing these things.


    Thankfully the pointed end is made of no more metal than is necessary, and not some malicious gemstone. I would likely survive being struck by such a spear.


    My priority needs to remain protecting Snapdragon. I grip the spear on one end as tightly as I can, before flinging it with all my unnatural strength in a way that causes it to spin and take the legs out from under another Howling Watcher mid sprint.


    ¡°Interesting choice.¡± Mel''Viora says with a breath after the first missed swing. ¡°Sparing my Watchers who mean to kill you and your charge.¡±


    Giving Mel''Viora an annoyed look is all I can manage until I find an opportunity to dive past her and sprint out of reach. ¡°Can¡¯t risk you killing me anyway for harming your precious Howling Watchers.¡±


    ¡°What a lovely idea. It is nice to hear you are giving this some thought.¡± Mel¡¯Viora says with a satisfied drone.


    She raises a hand in a beckoning gesture.


    Suddenly roots begin to spring up all around me, curling in an attempt to trip and entangle.


    Escape proves fruitless.


    With my legs tightly bound, she turns on Snapdragon with a murderous expression.


    Snapdragon is too busy fending off two Watchers who have successfully approached close enough for a series of jabs and deflections.


    Despite clearly holding her own, there is no time for Snapdragon to resolve the engagement.


    I reach into the pouch at my waist, grabbing the first stone I can and slotting it into whichever implement I am able to withdraw from the cloth wrapping first.


    What am I doing? I need to fill these, not expend them.


    What is a fresh implement untouched by the moon going to do to a Grove Tender?


    Despite the unease of touching the stone, I find myself smiling.


    I trust the red tourmaline to work wonders on someone as insufferable as Mel¡¯Viora.


    Leveling the pointed wooden implement at the Grove Tender, I make the last second decision to lay a second hand on the red tourmaline directly.


    There are two ways one typically acts with emotional resonance contained within gemstones.


    One, someone aligns themselves with the emotions contained within to open the gemstone up for feeding it their own resonance with what is contained within.


    Two, someone picks a target for the emotions contained within and unleashes a controlled burst of an effect shaped by how the gemstone is cut.


    Implements come into play by further directing the desired effect while serving to distance the wielder from the raw emotional backlash.


    I do both at the same time, channeling my raw emotions into a live current of raw emotion given form.


    There is nothing controlled about what follows. I empty the entire gemstone, layering my own emotional resonance into the channeling.


    With a very particular memory in mind, I retreat inside myself. How will Mel''Viora feel about confronting the root of what I won¡¯t allow myself to see when I gaze into a mirror.?


    When Grove Tender Mel''Viora turns to laugh off using an implement being turned upon her, I am treated to a sudden look of shock and horror before we both experience the full weight of emotional backlash.


    The storm of emotions devour me whole. I can only hope that Mel¡¯Viora is just as unable to function.


    Every derisive word and look contained within the tourmaline is turned against me. Only I am not me outside of a small trickle of particularly resonant memories.


    Having to feel the emotions of others is an entirely different unpleasantness. It is enough to want to claw at myself, but I know all too well what harm I can inflict upon myself. It would be better to bury my claws in dirt to limit the damage.


    Suddenly I hear my own voice reflected back at me, blaring with every tiny inflection picked up by Watcher ears.


    And then there are emotional resonances I have no context for. There is no time to make sense of any of it. I am just in a hundred places at once.


    It is overwhelming to the point that I don¡¯t even know what the gemstone¡¯s final effect is. As far as I am concerned, the gemstone¡¯s effect was a gamble not worth betting on when I already know what kind of burden my own emotions can be.


    Even once the words start to blur together, the stress starts to feel like drowning under a directed force of high pressure water.


    To fight against it would mean breaking under the strain.


    But there are familiar waters here.


    That they originate from me makes them easier to find.


    It won¡¯t make them any easier to relive.


    But it will be a reprieve from¡­ everything else.


    I¡¯m taller.


    Stronger.


    More sure of myself.


    Everything is finally going right for me.


    Lenore and I¡­


    The memory skips.


    My wretched siblings all look so tall from the floor of the dungeon cell.


    Everything beyond the pain is so hard to focus on.


    I feel so much¡­ lesser.


    Lenore presses her only remaining hand to my cheek.


    It hurts.


    Everything hurts.


    I don¡¯t want to listen.


    I want to shut the world out.


    But I should know better.


    These are our last moments together.


    ¡°Drink for me?¡± Lenore says, unable to manage more than a pained whisper.


    Whatever she is feeding me is warm.


    ¡°Good.¡±


    She¡¯s so calm.


    How can she be so calm?


    Everything feels¡­ wrong.


    ¡°Now I need you to open your mouth.¡±


    It hurts, but I manage it.


    ¡°Bite down.¡±


    I hesitate.


    Details beyond the pain are coming into focus.


    Sharpening, intensifying.


    It¡¯s too much.


    There¡¯s no shutting it out.


    I want more.


    I hunger in ways unfamiliar.


    I hesitate.


    ¡°Ayre. There¡¯s no time.¡±


    I try to cry out.


    But nothing audible comes from my lungs.


    ¡°One of us needs to survive.¡±


    Why? Why me? I mouth the words.


    ¡°I can¡¯t do this. Not alone.¡±


    Lies. Stronger.


    ¡°I just¡­ can¡¯t. But you can.¡±


    No.


    ¡°If one of us doesn¡¯t¡­ they¡¯ll find someone else.¡±


    Lenore.


    ¡°I helped you live with yourself. But you kept us alive.¡±


    I struggle to shake my head.


    Fresh pain shoots through what is left of my body.


    ¡°What about Selescia? Fia? They need us.¡±


    Not fair.


    ¡°They need you.¡±


    I bite down, sinking fangs into flesh.


    There is so much more than blood to consume.


    Tears, regrets, doubts, and thoughts never shared with me.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± Lenore says, her voice weakening.


    I can¡¯t speak. Not while draining Lenore of everything that remains of the life we shared.


    She holds my gaze.


    And I finally understand her.


    As much as I ever will from feeding on what is left of her.


    No sound escapes her lips.


    But I know the words.


    You¡¯re worth it.


    ¡°I know.¡± I finally say, long after she can hear me. ¡°But you¡¯re worth more.¡±


    Something burrowing deep inside of fresh wounds begins to take over at that point.


    Helplessness and worthlessness overtake me as I experience the pain of being remade from the parts my parasite decides fit best.

 Chapter 10 – Rough Transition

    Snapdragon


    In all my moons, I have never witnessed a gemstone crack under pressure.


    And Ayre did it with a gemstone of Derision - meant to contain a sense of diminishment. It is far from the first emotional resonance most think of when a sudden intensity of emotion is needed.


    I was not the target of Ayre¡¯s binding stone. So I cannot be entirely sure what Ayre subjected Mel¡¯Viora to.


    But I can tell they poured everything they had to give into that stone.


    Theriya would not have constructed an implement that could not contain the size of the gemstone. Which means the gemstone cracking was all Ayre¡¯s doing. That alone should speak volumes about the depth of the burdens weighing them down.


    We all felt the intensity of it to varying degrees. For the many Lunarians lingering at the edges of the stone garden, I can spot the sudden sense of weariness and discomfort.


    My sisters and brothers among the Howling Watchers were quick to discard their spears, despite only experiencing glimpses of the worst of it.


    Just seconds of experiencing the loss of limbs is enough to reduce most to screams. It is a worse pain than most suffer without a disabling injury that costs most their assigned role.


    For most Seedlings, there is no greater fear than losing their place in a grove.


    Those of us closest to the Grove tender, myself and my two attackers, are all still struggling to put weight on our own limbs.


    I¡¯m the first back on my feet, but that isn¡¯t saying much.


    I try to tell myself I have lived through this kind of misalignment with my own body. I should be stronger, more experienced at dealing with this kind of pain.


    Every time I dare risk a look in their direction, I can¡¯t decide whether I see Ayre or Lenore.


    And I can¡¯t stand seeing Lenore.


    Doing so twists my stomach into knots and nearly brings me to tears over the guilt of being in some way responsible for the loss.


    Internally, I am fighting back a need to know the full extent of what Ayre experienced. What kind of foolishness is it when I feel an insatiable need to know more about something I can barely stand glimpses of?


    Ayre hasn¡¯t moved in the slightest. Their arms remain extended with a hand placed firmly upon a cracked gemstone. A look of grim determination remains set in their face as if it were carved from stone.


    If I look past the scars and the terrors that caused them, can I imagine a destination beyond the safety of themselves and their dolls? What could they become if given the space and opportunity to redefine their sense of self beyond what has been done and continues to be expected of them?


    Behind that mask of necessary cruelties, how does Ayre truly feel in comparison to the rest of us?


    What do they need?


    How can I help?


    Ayre needs to be my focus, but why do I care so much?


    The reality of being known by the wrong entities will be our undoing, if we are not careful. And yet...


    Four arm lengths away, Grove Tender Mel¡¯Viora bends over an arrangement of roots beckoned from the ground to support herself. Both pools of amber infused eye stones shake in their sockets. She lets out a guttural growl the moment I step closer to her and Ayre. ¡°Howlers! Leave us!¡±


    When the recovering Watchers struggle to leave in a timely fashion, Mel¡¯Viora turns the intensity of her gaze on those still unable to move. Whether impaled by my hurled javelin, or unable to stand on their own feet, all are motivated by a need to escape the Grove Tender¡¯s stare.


    Those lingering on the fringes get the message without being specifically addressed.


    Her gaze turns to me.


    ¡°You. Strip this¡­ Ayre of their gemstones and implements.¡±


    I note the use of their name, and not any variation of unproven Seed Prince or depths spawned wretch.


    It is enough to motivate me to push through the aftershocks of pain that come with every step. My legs feel less like mine than usual and I don¡¯t fully understand why.


    How much does a need to be known guide my every step?


    I would not dare be the whole of myself. Not in front of Mel¡¯Viora.


    ¡°I am not blind.¡± Mel¡¯Viora says, her voice a bitter drone. ¡°You think you know better than the one who planted and nurtured you. I know not what purpose guides you, but I am not ignorant to why you would choose to endear yourself to those who might one day envision planting groves of their own.¡±


    Doing my best to ignore Mel¡¯Viora, I focus on Ayre¡¯s unsteady breathing. It is like they can¡¯t use the entirety of their lungs for some reason.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay.¡± I say. ¡°You can let go now.¡± I take my time coaxing Ayre to release their grip on the tourmaline implement. Stripping them of the other implements and gemstone pouch is something I do with great care. ¡°We¡¯re safe now. It¡¯s over.¡±


    Ayre is in a delicate state. There isn¡¯t much I can do about Mel¡¯Viora, but I can avoid touching Ayre after what was likely an incredibly draining experience.


    ¡°I had a mind to teach the both of you a lesson.¡± Mel¡¯Viora says, her voice growing strained. ¡°But some growths are best cut to preserve the whole.¡± The Grove Tender turns away from us, beginning to stride off as if nothing happened. As if unaffected by bearing the full weight of what has left Ayre petrified in place while others struggle to stand on their own feet. ¡°Pass on word to the Seed Seers. You are to see to it that no moon touched or blighted creature enters the grove.¡±


    ¡°I will.¡± I say, in part because I am unsure if Ayre is capable of talking.


    ¡°Achieve that,¡± Mel¡¯Viora whispers, so that only I can hear. ¡°And I will release you from your role as Watcher.¡±


    It is the first thing Mel¡¯VIora says that gets a reaction out of me. The idea that I might be willingly released from my torment is nearly enough to leave me unsteady on my feet.


    There is of course some plan already forming in Mel¡¯Viora¡¯s mind. But this is still a step in the right direction. She has merely presented it as giving up on me is all.


    I flinch as Ayre suddenly leans against me, their body shaking.


    ¡°Shhh. It¡¯s okay. I have you.¡± I whisper, unsure what else to do until I can get a response out of them.


    If I can¡¯t get them to come out of their shell, I¡¯ll take them to someone who can. Cerya or Astraea? Fia? Maybe not Fia.


    I could envision an outcome where Cerya correctly guesses where Ayre''s pain is coming from and how to address it.


    No.


    I¡¯m passing off responsibility.


    Ayre doesn¡¯t need me to be Third. They have their own protector.


    Cerya has put herself out enough already, for me and Ayre both.


    Ayre needs me to be the Snapdragon I long to be.


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    Cerya forgive me, I should be tired of pretending to be anything else.


    I close my eyes, imagining only the comforting sound of my head voice.


    I have seen Ayre let down their guard before.


    If they are going to heal from this, I need to convince them that I am truly on their side.


    My eyes open, and I take in every tiny detail of Ayre¡¯s slowly faltering expression. ¡°Ayre?¡± I say, drawing out the sound of their name.


    No response.


    I search Ayre¡¯s gaze.


    Their eyes are unfocused enough that I¡¯m not even certain if they can hear me.


    Still, it probably would not do to shout.


    ¡°You¡¯re¡­ not a disappointment.¡± I say, as gently as I can.


    Ayre¡¯s fingers tighten on my shoulder.


    For a moment, I think of them as Lenore¡¯s fingers.


    Suddenly it is me who is leaning on Ayre for support.


    I quickly correct this, adjusting my stance until I am better positioned to support Ayre¡¯s weight.


    ¡°Sorry.¡± I say. ¡°For all of this. I¡¯ve been hard on you, saddling you with expectations and suspicion when we should be helping each other.¡±


    Ayre¡¯s shoulders make a weak shrugging motion before sagging.


    It¡¯s not much, but I¡¯ll take what I can get from them in this state.


    ¡°Can you walk for me? No. It¡¯s fine, you can keep leaning on me.¡± I offer Ayre an amused smile before orienting us back to the barrack. Cerya is likely the closest, if nothing else. ¡°You¡¯ve strained yourself enough.¡±


    The streets of the grove are oddly empty.


    Then again, we did just upset the Grove Tender.


    What is important is that I¡¯m comfortable saying something potentially sensitive.


    I take a deep breath. ¡°I know I¡¯m not¡­ one of your dolls. And Mel¡¯Viora is not any of your siblings who did this to you. For what it¡¯s worth, I think she would be proud of you for being willing to subject yourself to all of that again to protect me.¡±


    Ayre nearly causes us both to stumble. ¡°She was right.¡± They say all of a sudden.


    ¡°About what?¡± I ask, keeping my voice tender and inviting. They need to hear me genuinely care right now.


    Now is not the time to be harsh or overly observant.


    They don¡¯t need that. And I don¡¯t want to fill that role anymore.


    ¡°Lenore.¡± Ayre¡¯s thready whisper of a voice is a delicate thing, as if her name alone is something to be treasured. ¡°I think¡­ She struggled with giving up a lot. It¡¯s¡­ Not something I¡¯ve made peace with, now that a lot of her thoughts and body are mine.¡±


    Oh, Ayre you poor thing.


    ¡°She had you to lean on.¡± I say with a frown, unsure how much more it is my place to say. ¡°Do you not think she would have taken your strengths were she in your place?¡±


    Ayre falls silent at that. Their eyes fall to the ground and the pace of our walk picks up.


    I offer them another verbal nudge. ¡°I don¡¯t imagine it¡¯s easy being saddled with a body and thoughts that don¡¯t feel like they belong to you. But you haven¡¯t given up. I think that¡¯s worth praising.¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t make me any stronger.¡± Ayre says, and I can¡¯t help but eye the flexing of one of their hands into near fists. They don¡¯t allow their finger tips to scrape flesh.


    Beyond the relationship with the Vylian blood parasite in their chest, what kind of history does Ayre have with harming themself? Or was it Lenore? If it was present, was it hidden or is Ayre only now realizing it after being compelled to do the same?


    "No. I don''t imagine it does." I glance at the tourmaline in my hand. A crack running down the center of the polished red gemstone cuts straight through both of our reflections. "But it is no excuse to let them convince us we are weaker for it."


    Ayre¡¯s eyes begin to close. They take the deepest breath they can, before sighing with a weariness that upsets me.


    "Weaker for what?" Ayre finally asks.


    My eyes spend too long wandering up the many winding scars of Ayre¡¯s stitched together form that I almost hesitate. "Daring to not be defined by what you or I see in the mirror."


    Ayre doesn¡¯t flinch.


    Instead I am treated to the small betrayal of the corners of Ayre¡¯s lips rising at what I hope is the notion that they might not be alone anymore.


    ¡°Yeah. Something like that.¡± Ayre says, and it feels like an admission.


    My world comes to a stop for a moment.


    It is one thing to see parts of myself so rarely reflected in another.


    As a Watcher, it is especially difficult to resist projecting my own biases.


    But it is another thing entirely to admit such and have another validate that feeling.


    It would be best to be sure.


    I bring us to a stop before offering Ayre my hand.


    ¡°What does being stuck in the wrong body feel like for you?¡± I say, making it an invitation.


    I see the involuntary flinch. The doubt follows it by stealing away those tiny traces of a smile. And then I hear it, something hammering hard against the confines of Ayre¡¯s chest.


    Two of Ayre¡¯s fingers brush against my hand.


    Ayre holds their gaze steady, tightens their lips into a line, and their stance straightens.


    They take my hand in theirs, squeezing tightly. Before I can even react, Ayre realizes their own overcommitment.


    And then comes that moment where everything about them softens.


    It is this honest self reflection and critique in everything they do that I can¡¯t stop seeing in them. It would be a lie to not call it refreshingly endearing.


    Before Ayre can even open their mouth to speak, I feel my cheeks warming up as I find myself once again eager to give them the benefit of the doubt. Whatever it is that they want done about their ability to live in their own head and skin is something I want to support.


    But then Ayre speaks, it feels like they are seeing through me. ¡°It is like a hunger for something I have never had. A need to break down walls that I cannot give into, for the walls are my own flesh.¡± Ayre¡¯s hand retreats, but only slightly, leaving them to squeeze just two of my fingers.


    I recognize it as a steadying gesture.


    I want to claim that their willingness to share this kind of vulnerability with me means more than they know. But their family is just as much of a numbered of a hierarchy as mine. If anything theirs might be more volatile.


    Ayre continues. ¡°I claim to have only ever known the depths of the Castellan¡¯s dungeon, but sometimes it feels like I carry another imprisonment with me. The rules and confines of this unseen sentence are only discovered when I have admitted some observation that makes it clear that I am still a prisoner. There is always this moment where it becomes clear I have reminded someone of a forgotten agreement to limit my expression. Even if I lock myself away and refuse to hunt for an escape. Others like you or Astraea admit casual truths that everyone else would condemn as falsehood and instantly punish if overheard.¡±


    Ayre says all of that to me, before again weakening their grip. Visible fear or hesitation causes them to tense up.


    ¡°I think I know what you¡¯re getting at.¡± I say with reassurance, like I could ever be the one to shove them back and into the depths of not understanding how they can go on knowing they are not like other people. ¡°It is always unpleasant to be treated like you are intrinsically different in a way that others think is offensive. This is especially true when you are unsure of how or why such behavior is a problem in the first place.¡±


    I am struck by how delicate this moment was for me.


    How little of a mess would I have been capable of making if I had quietly been disposed of and replaced if Theriya or Cerya saw me as a threat to their delicate positions?


    By contrast, how much damage could someone like Ayre do if pressed?


    I sigh. ¡°I just want you to know you¡¯re not alone in this. Unfortunately, turning this kind of emotional resonance on Grove Tender Mel¡¯Viora is not likely to go unpunished.¡± I give two of Ayre¡¯s fingers a reassuring squeeze. ¡°You¡¯re not going to sway or give pause to those who need us to function in the roles assigned to us.¡±


    Ayre goes a little still at that, but they do right their stance and stop leaning on me for support. After a few deep breaths their breathing returns mostly to normal, if still a little weary. ¡°You¡¯re probably right. I¡¯ll settle for her entrusting us to fulfill the task that Theriya and you wanted to convince her and the Howling Watchers to fulfill. Although I would appreciate knowing your thoughts on the matter.¡±


    Ayre breaks the contact between us.


    I take it as a reminder to be vigilant about how we might be perceived. Slowly, word by word, I allow my voice to sink back into the depths of authority and intensity required of a Third Watcher of the Thorns.  ¡°I told Theriya this was a bad idea.¡± I finally admit, having held back this particular thought from the moment I heard cries of pain coming from the Thorned Watcher barracks. ¡°Allow me to officially catch you up on what you have missed.¡±


    The two of us are nearing the Barracks now. No Cerya in sight yet, but that could change at any moment.


    ¡°Whenever there are heightened emotions, the Seed Seers are soon to follow.¡± My words fall into a steady rhythm as I recount details Ayre might need if they are going to face these creatures in my stead. ¡°Last night we had to contend with blighted creatures that are otherwise territorial enough to remain in their caves. Between the Cinder Blight causing them to recklessly attack alongside a host of other infectious creatures and all of them being in a frenzy under the moon¡¯s influence, it was a bad night for us.¡±


    Ayre gives me a thoughtful look that I suspect hides some sense of praise. ¡°Fighting without self preservation, in such large numbers, and an added worry of infection from any wounds inflicted, I think I can see why most of the Thorned Watchers were bedridden.¡±


    ¡°We were nearly overrun.¡± I say. ¡°Theriya spent much of the night trying to accommodate you by crafting what we thought you might need. Luckily for her, she had an entire planting of injured Watchers ripe for harvesting!¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± Ayre says. ¡°I¡­ didn¡¯t know.¡±


    I allow my voice to soften a touch here, not to the level where any would question it. But hopefully it is enough to signal to Ayre that I have genuine concerns about how they conducted themselves. ¡°So. Yeah. I was a little upset over the idea of Cerya and you bonding over torturing my fellow Thorns.¡±


    ¡°Theriya didn¡¯t give me much to go on.¡± Ayre expresses through tight lips. ¡°And Second is never forthcoming. But none of that was an excuse to do more harm than was necessary. I need to stop treating you all like Vylians.¡±


    ¡°I wish I could help you there. Moon knows the Thorned Watchers are a miserable lot. Despite being Third among them, they¡¯re pretty happy to dismiss me at a moment¡¯s opportunity.¡± My voice falls to a conspiratorial whisper. ¡°I¡¯m not asking you to care about them, but I do think we¡¯re going to need them intact.¡±


    ¡°Can you do me a favor?¡± Ayre says and if I squint, I can almost see the thought slowly forming in their mind through their features.


    I find it endearing that I can already read the favor as Ayre mouths out what they want to say.


    ¡°Of course.¡± I say.


    ¡°Can you find the former Nineteen of the Thorned Watchers and bring him to the Seed Seers¡¯ spire?¡± Ayre says, voicing the next thoughts aloud as they spring to mind. ¡°It would be best, I think, to pose some of the questions I have to someone who might be comfortable loudly expressing them all of a sudden.¡±


    It is a good idea. ¡°Of course.¡± I say.


    As loath as I am to part from Ayre, I¡¯m content with the state I am leaving them in.


    By way of apology, I¡¯ll be sure to bring them a fresh change of clothes.


    The mix of bindings and flowing shawl makes me wonder if I can get away with suggesting a dress of some kind.


    Ayre strikes me as the type who would appreciate something tight in the chest but loose fitting elsewhere. Maybe I can even find something in the right shade of red that they don¡¯t need to worry about getting blood on.

 Chapter 11 – For Whom does the Heart Yearn?

    Ayre


    I should feel wretched.


    And yet I don¡¯t.


    If anything, I¡¯m back to being wary of allowing myself to feel hopeful.


    A part of me screams to distrust this, to recognize that I am more vulnerable right now than I think.


    But I can¡¯t get Astraea¡¯s words out of my head.


    How much can time change?


    I am already the farthest from depths I have ever been.


    No Executioner stalks the streets of these groves.


    But the Lunarians will likely respond eventually to how I continue to slight them.


    Lest I forget, I allegedly have siblings who are on their way to visit.


    But they are not here now. Which means I should make the most of this time available to me.


    Watching Snapdragon depart pulls at something in me.


    I¡¯ve felt it before, in Cerya¡¯s embrace.


    I associate the weight on my chest and beating of my heart with a need to compromise. But I keep finding myself in situations where I am held in place by the affections of others.


    No obligation.


    No reward for fulfilling the role expected or asked of me.


    I am just subjected to being claimed before being left to accomplish tasks to the benefit of me and me alone.


    Maybe I was far too quick to dismiss Astraea¡¯s most hopeful claims.


    Maybe I don¡¯t have to rely entirely on my own strength.


    I just¡­


    I¡­


    I watched Lenore die again.


    I felt it.


    I resonated with it, even.


    I took Lenore¡¯s memory and wielded it like a weapon.


    Grove Tender Mel¡¯Viora didn¡¯t even have the decency to cry out in pain or be moved by the emotional weight of it all.


    It still hurts.


    But the memory doesn¡¯t hurt anywhere near like it used to.


    My every experience tells me that I should be on a downward spiral right now.


    Sure, pouring my everything into a gemstone should leave me emotionally drained. But I can already feel thoughts I would otherwise refuse to entertain can now pass freely through my head and without stress.


    My most isolated thoughts were voiced aloud before being immediately validated by Snapdragon.


    I am left to consider a world without Lenore no longer feeling like a hopeless and hollow concept.


    And I just¡­ am struck by not knowing how to deal with that.


    Objectively, there are so many things Lenore would be better at.


    She would know how to comfort Fia and Selescia. I on the other hand don¡¯t know what comes after keeping them safe.  Sometimes it feels like it is all I can do to secure time or circumstances for them to rest. Sleeping in shifts kept Lenore and I alive in the depths. But it doesn¡¯t feel like enough.


    Lenore would most certainly be able to tap into whatever it is that attracts Cerya to Astraea. But I admitted to Snapdragon that Lenore struggled with giving up while in the depths. There is a very real chance that Lenore would need Cerya¡¯s reassurances and comforts more than I do.


    As for Theriya, Lenore would have stayed up late to get to know her. It would have been safer, I think, than trusting so easily.


    How many times had Lenore stayed awake after it was my turn to be on watch? Whether it was to hear out my concerns or calm my nerves, she always put me and the dolls before herself.


    Would she wear herself out by staying up too late?


    Would Snapdragon still be alive if an exhausted Lenore was not at her best?


    And I know why I am so sure about all of this. I could probably sit down and follow the memories back, logically speaking. But wondering where Ayre ends and Lenore begins still inspires dread. Such considerations are a sure way to result in a senseless spiral where I come away no more sure of myself.


    Do Snapdragon¡¯s words resonate with me? Or has she merely managed to grasp at and speak to an understanding that I am more than what remains of the Ayre and Lenore whose experience was confined to the depths of my past?


    It is probably for the best that Snapdragon held onto the gemstones. She¡¯ll know what needs to be done. And I am probably better off not dulling my thoughts by consigning them to stone.


    As Snapdragon turns to disappear from view, she stops to turn in my direction one last time. No words are spoken on account of the distance between us, but I do enjoy wondering what it is going through her mind.


    A sudden sense of self awareness is enough to cause my breath to catch in my throat.


    My scars may be open to the world, but knowing that Snapdragon and I survived makes it worth it.


    I suddenly feel like I could weather being called any number of things and having to think of her as something she isn¡¯t if it means we both get to live another day.


    To the depths with whatever Mel¡¯Viora or any of her other Thorns or Howling Watchers might think or do in response.


    I¡¯m willing to cast my lot in with Snapdragon and the Seed Seers.


    Not that I ever had a choice in the long term.


    But now I know I want it.


    I¡¯m not sure what exactly that changes, but if I had to guess it no longer feels like an obligation.


    I am invested enough that I push myself into action.


    In no specific order, I need to speak with Cerya, Astraea, and Amari.


    Cerya surely has a task of her own to complete for the day. She did say she probably shouldn¡¯t be helping me, after all. There are also likely insights that I will only be able to glean from her about the Moon Wrought implements she and her sister produce.


    All I will need from that point is a map and an understanding of how widespread these Cinderblights are. If they are infecting territorial creatures, can we push them back to these caves that the Lunarians dare not venture?


    Bolt throwers and spears may make poor weapons in claustrophobic environments, but any cave resembling the depths of my birth would be the ideal hunting ground for me. Fighting underground also means that I would not be limited to the daylight hours when the moon would erode our capacity to differentiate friend or foe.


    If I can keep the grove safe tonight, maybe I can earn enough goodwill to coax a group of Watchers into enabling this plan of mine.


    But that would mean trying to make a better third impression on the Thorned Watchers than my first at the gates and second in their barrack.


    As I near the barrack in question, I begin to smell the fresh blood before anything else.


    Burned flesh and foul chemicals come next.


    Cerya must have finished extracting emotional resonance. Enough that they are actually beginning to address the many wounds accrued by the Thorned Watchers the night prior.


    I am not particularly thirsty, but being fresh from a physically and emotionally draining encounter is likely causing my body to reexamine my priorities.


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    I brace myself and decide to knock on the barrack door. No sense barging in if I am unwelcome.


    An unfamiliar voice answers. ¡°Come in, Princeling.¡±


    Having spoken to or overheard the voices of most the Thorned Watchers inside, that I do not recognize the speaker puts me on edge.


    The voice continues to take its time drawing amusement in the words that follow. ¡°Your escorts have been making themselves useful in your absence.¡±


    I open the door.


    Amari and Astraea are the first ones I see. Astraea is holding a Watcher still while Amari delights in layering a thick yellow substance on a wound before wrapping it in bandages.


    It takes almost no time at all for the Watcher on the receiving end to relax.


    Meanwhile the owner of the voice from before is quick to approach me. She is taller than Astraea and has even sharper facial features. Cerulean hair falls neatly to just above her right shoulder. Unlike every other Watcher Uniform I have seen, hers is the only one to show fresh signs of wear and tear.


    A nearby spear next to the bed she rose from is still bloodied. Judging by the equipment set aside on the bed, I seem to have interrupted her efforts to clean it.


    ¡°I presume you are the First Seed of the Thorned Watchers.¡± I say, by way of greeting.


    ¡°I am she who sprung first to lead my planting of Thorns.¡± First favors me with an expression of pride while gesturing to her chest. Next comes a pointed sense of disappointment as the door to the barracks closes behind me. ¡°Is Third not with you?¡±


    My answer comes in the form of a raised eyebrow. ¡°Should she be?¡±


    ¡°Third was to report to me after entreating with the Howlers. My understanding is that you accompanied her.¡±


    My first instinct is to answer in the affirmative. But something causes me to hesitate.


    ¡°Does Third answer to you?¡± I say in reply.


    ¡°I am First.¡± Again, that open hand gesture upon her chest.


    It is as if I should be paying her some sense of deference for being born first.


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I asked.¡± I say flatly.


    ¡°It is answer enough.¡± First¡¯s expression and tone begin to show a hint of annoyance. ¡°Do not claim your kind follow anything but strictly numbered hierarchies.¡±


    I seize the opportunity to sneer for what it is. ¡°Oh we do. But if I¡¯m ever discontent with my place in the hierarchy, I take the life and number of my sibling.¡±


    Understandably, First takes offense. A most desirable reaction.


    Before she can respond, I drive my point home. ¡°As far as I am concerned, Third just displayed that she can hold her own against a number of Howling Watchers. So far, I haven¡¯t been impressed with what I¡¯ve heard of the rest of the Thorned lot. But I realize I¡¯ve been unfair. You deserve an opportunity to prove yourselves.¡±


    First grates her teeth. And I recognize the contempt aimed past me.


    I head it off, closing the distance between us. ¡°I asked Third to handle something for me.¡±


    First looks at me with barely restrained annoyance. "You what?"


    ¡°For a Watcher, I¡¯m struggling to imagine what about this is so hard to understand.¡±


    Her annoyance fades, replaced with a quick calculated reassessment as she eyes my scars. ¡°You are... testing me.¡±


    Now comes the fun part.


    I turn away, stepping past her. ¡°I¡¯m just a wretch of a Vylian who doesn¡¯t know better, remember? No. I am testing your authority. Keep up.¡± With my back to the Watcher, I make sure to brace myself for any sudden movements on her part. All while feigning the direction of my focus on Astraea and Amari. ¡°Is Seed Seer Cerya here? If not, did she leave word in regards to her whereabouts?¡±


    Astraea and Amari¡¯s eyes dart towards First¡¯s reaction.


    I turn, knocking her hand aside before she can strike me.


    ¡°You dare challenge me in front of my planting?¡± To her credit, First avoids shouting.


    It is my turn to give her a dismissive once over. ¡°No. I kill for sport. Why? Are you offering yourself up as an afternoon excitement?¡± A lie on my part, but a believable one.


    Her eyes narrow. "No. You are nothing like the Fourteenth Vylian Prince I knew. But I imagine you¡¯d kill all the same if given a reason.¡± First backs away a step before beginning to dust off her uniform. ¡°I will make note to avoid having Second to ever be the one to bother you about something.¡±


    It shouldn¡¯t surprise me that she is observant. Still, I wasn¡¯t expecting to so easily avoid having to deal with him in an official capacity anymore than is necessary. ¡°I am glad we understand each other.¡±


    First¡¯s voice falls to a whisper. ¡°Answer me this one question, and I¡¯ll drop the matter I had in mind for Third.¡±


    I give her my full attention. ¡°I¡¯m listening.¡±


    ¡°The Fourteenth before you. Did he die well by your hand?¡± Gone is the tension and annoyance in her voice. Her words take on a somber seriousness.


    I keep my accounting factual. ¡°He struck another of my escorts, Selescia. I tore off his arm, pinned him, and pierced his heart until he stopped resisting. He clung to life for a seventy count of breaths before accepting his mistake to be a fatal one.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± First says with a sigh. ¡°I will ensure that his blossoms and seeds are informed of his passing.¡±


    Oh.


    I had been hoping to impress upon her that me and mine are not to be harmed in any way. But I suppose we all have our roles. Not all of them are inherently malicious.


    Some of them can even be worthwhile despite the unpleasantness.


    ¡°If it is any consolation,¡± I let my words linger in the air while taking in the many Lunarian glares looking my way. ¡°I have convinced Grove Tender Mel¡¯Viora to entrust the grove¡¯s protection to me for the duration of the full moon.¡± I make a point to wander to the far side of the room, giving everyone a look at the place on my back where Mel¡¯Viora drew blood. ¡°Rest up. I don¡¯t intend to play defensively forever.¡±


    Ultimately, all of these words mean little. My intent and capabilities have yet to be proven. But I do wonder how they will feel upon learning the details of the fight between Snapdragon and I fought against the Howling Watchers.


    They seemed¡­ eager to attempt to kill Snapdragon. And I can¡¯t help but wonder what kind of rivalries are fostered between those who allegedly share the same roles.


    My hands run along an unremarkably drab tunic marked by nineteen wooden studs along the back of the collar. It hangs alone from twenty gnarled branches jutting from the wall. ¡°This seems a waste.¡± I muse aloud. ¡°You all won¡¯t be replacing nineteen anytime soon will you?¡± I note the missing left sleeve is still stained with dry blood. This will not hide my scars, but maybe it will be worth some small token of acting on their behalf.


    I turn to find First eyeing me while polishing her spear. She shakes her head. ¡°No. So long as you are the one to wear it, I will not complain.¡±


    I don the under clothing of the Nineteenth Thorn. No sense asking for the armor or mask when I have my own sources for what benefits they would provide.


    My eyes wander back to Astraea and Amari beginning to set aside their curatives in favor of preparing to leave.


    ¡°If Seed Seer Cerya has departed, I will await the two of you outside.¡± I say, finally taking Cerya¡¯s advice.


    ¡°We¡¯ll only need a few moments.¡± Astraea assures me.


    I give it to them, content to retreat outside and back to my many thoughts.


    I don¡¯t regret the blood I have shed.


    Not for a second.


    As the Fourteenth Prince, my place came at the expense of three siblings, only one of which I cared about.


    I¡¯m not happy knowing my place as the Fourteenth Prince came at the cost of Lenore.


    When faced with only one of us rising to the place of Twentieth, neither Lenore or I knew how difficult our other siblings would be to destroy.


    And now I do.


    Again, I should feel wretched, knowing that my place comes at the grief of those beyond my unbearable siblings.


    But again I find myself feeling differently.


    There is a way of looking at all this that I am missing.


    It occurs to me that my place might have come at the expense of four broodlings, not three.


    I am¡­ not the Ayre I used to be.


    So much of what I have had to become in order to survive the Castellan¡¯s ruthless court has buried many of the defiant traits of the little broodling that first crawled out from the depths.


    The Seed Seers barely even know me, but already they see something beneath the mismatched flesh. What does it say about Theriya and I that it only took a night to correctly craft stones that I am well suited to wield?


    And now Snapdragon has joined Astraea in trying to get through to a me that can¡¯t be allowed to see the light of day. My reflection frightens me whenever I fail to glimpse Ayre or Lenore in the mirror. There are moments, where I have to admit that Ayre¡¯s facial features have softened in a manner resembling Fia. When I furrow my brows, I can¡¯t help but see Selescia.


    How much more can I change? Is there a threshold where I become useless in the eyes of the Castellan for not gorging upon my foes like my siblings do?


    How much do I have yet to learn?


    What costs have I yet to pay?


    The door to the barrack opens, depositing an Amari and Astraea onto the stonework paths.


    Before the door can close behind them, Amari has something to say. ¡°Princeling, you are getting downright devious lately.¡±


    Knowing we are still within earshot of the entire Thorned Watchers, my attention snaps to Amari. I glare daggers at her before realizing the look she is giving me is a soft one.


    She is waiting for me to reply. Is she setting me up for something?


    Our agreement was for her to advise me.


    But in this instance, I already know what I want. I must simply voice it aloud. ¡°Settle down Amari. I don''t need the Thorns to know I need them yet. It is better they still think of me like the rest of my siblings.¡±


    The expression that Amari gives is a pleased one. ¡°Are you so sure that is how you presented yourself? First seemed to see right through you.¡±


    ¡°Well yes. But if I play nice out the gate, they will just suspect a doublecross or some other short sighted scheme. I can afford the impression that I might be easier to work with than my siblings. We¡¯re here for the long term.¡± I cross my arms, making the next part a boast. ¡°There is no need to rush. Not when I¡¯ve yet to so much as single-handedly crush an entire full moon¡¯s worth of an assault on the grove so they can recuperate.¡±


    ¡°As your most trusted advisor, I should warn you that Watchers have incredibly sensitive hearing.¡± Amari completes the exchange by giving me a wink.


    My most trusted advisor is she?


    I loop an arm around hers, tug her close, and growl into her ear. ¡°You should have warned me. Earlier.¡±


    ¡°Forgive me, Princeling.¡± Amari¡¯s apology comes with a charming meekness.


    I sigh. ¡°That¡¯s what I get for letting you stray too far from my side in unfamiliar territory.¡± I flash her a sharp toothed grin. ¡°But we can address that now that we¡¯re more certain of our place here.¡±


    ¡°Shall we provide her sleeping accommodations in the Seer''s spire?¡± Astraea suggests with her own playful expression.


    In spite of Amari¡¯s wordless protests, I express agreement. ¡°This will not be a punishment. If it is an inconvenience, you will be paid extra for your time.¡±


    Amari continues to silently pout.


    I ease up on my hold, offering an apologetic smoothing out of the disheveled fur of hers.


    She considers for a moment before assenting.


    What starts as a smoothing of the exposed fur on her shoulders becomes her leaning into me. I roll my eyes and add a stroke to her luxurious head of hair. ¡°Astraea, we can¡¯t keep picking up strays. No matter how cute or useful they are.¡±


    Astraea lets out a laugh. ¡°If we¡¯re going to pretend to be unpleasant, why not just use Amari up and discard her when it suits you?¡±


    This earns Astraea what I can only describe as a playful smack with Amari¡¯s luxuriously soft tail.


    I can¡¯t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. ¡°No no. That won¡¯t do at all. I am only willing to press Amari into the services she has volunteered for. If she wants to talk herself into my inner circle for a long term, so be it. For now, I just need her to know how to avoid further offending my Lunarian allies while helping me deal with my wretched siblings.¡±


    By silent agreement, we all let the topic drop there.


    Anything more is not for Lunarian ears.


    Instead the topic of our conversation turns to how Astraea went to fetch Amari at sunrise. They apparently bore witness to the repair efforts being organized by First and that led them here where they expected a Seed Seer to make herself present.


    Afterwards, I am left to explain my side of things.


    It goes well.


    Up until I have to talk about confronting the Grove Tender and everything that followed.


    Astraea and Amari notice immediately when I stop walking.


    It is Amari who takes the first at guessing what is wrong.


    Her words are leveled so casually.


    ¡°How would you feel if I called you Lenore?¡±

 Chapter 12 – A Heart beats for Us

    Ayre


    "It can''t be that simple." I say.


    Amari gestures with her hand, offering up her argument as if it would fit into her palm. ¡°It is clear as day that you are bothered by being addressed by certain titles.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not wrong.¡± I say, not wanting to contest the observation.


    "Why can it not be simple?" Amari speaks as if this were the easiest thing in the world. "Did you not just finish explaining how this Snapdragon only goes by such in private?"


    "I just..." Where do I even begin? I can barely even speak Lenore¡¯s name or her words most days. ¡°We don¡¯t have time for this. My day is filled with things to do before I deal with the full moon.¡±


    Amari remains undeterred. ¡°If you want my advice. This is the kind of moment that can redefine who you are and how or why you¡¯re going to approach everything that comes after.¡± Amari¡¯s tail sways in an upright position behind her, evidence of her interest in the subject. ¡°Even if I¡¯m wrong about this, your fierce protector and I will learn how better to accommodate you going forward.¡±


    It is as if Astraea can see I am conflicted. She offers me a soft smile. "It would probably be best if you humor her up front and not let her speculate.¡±


    It is not like it is difficult to get under my skin. But still, Astraea likely has the right of it. Even as a stranger, Amari knows how to needle me.


    Already standing on the precipice of agreeing, I sense a weight in Astrea¡¯s next words. ¡°I went by Bitterheart when my parents first kicked me out of the estate. This is¡­ I really must stress that this is worth making the time for."


    "I¡­"  Should at least entertain the thought. My paid advisor and sworn protector are already in agreement. It is not like who or what I am is ever far from my mind.


    I take a deep breath before blocking out any thoughts about my mother factoring into consideration. Nothing about changing a name should be a grave offense. ¡°When I claim that this is not the same, I am coming from a place of not wanting to compare relationships with our mothers.¡± My voice trails off.


    I doubt this will go over well with most of my siblings.


    My Twelfth brother would know. Or would he not remember the names of broodlings  unworthy of making the cut? I want to clench my fists in anger over the thought, but it would not do well to misdirect any lingering spite towards those who are trying to help me.


    I¡¯ve done enough already.


    ¡°I understand.¡± Astraea says, making it seem like an easy assurance. ¡°I did not intend to press you. Only offer encouragement and myself as an example.¡±


    I look up at Astraea. It is hard not to see her as a tall lilac skinned and horned example of the kind of monster my mother is excited to collect. Her wiry muscle and adornment of long faded scars that trail her arms speaks more to experience than a reliance on brute force.


    The depths demanded I survive for years at the expense of others. I don¡¯t want to dwell on any comparisons to Astraea being kicked out of her estate.


    I want to like Astraea.


    Amari on the other hand is too eager to make herself useful. I turn to give her my full attention.


    It occurs to me that she might think she is doing me a favor. Something catches in my throat. ¡°I don¡¯t deserve this kindness.¡± I say.


    The two exchange a long series of looks.


    Immediately I am wary of having said either too much or the wrong words.


    Astraea smothers a look of hope, adopting a protective concern.


    Amari¡¯s honeyed eyes widen immediately. Her smile grows ever wider, showing off her sharp incisors. ¡°So you do think this would be a good thing for you.¡± Amari¡¯s eyes dart around to ensure we are not overheard as her whispers turn conspiratorial, bordering on flirtatious. ¡°Whether or not you are deserving is such a small matter by comparison. I could only help you identify the former. The latter, now that is something I would be delighted to convince you of.¡±


    My heart speeds up as I avert my gaze.


    How am I supposed to discourage such honeyed eyes and sweeter words?


    There is so much more to my feeding than just drinking the blood of another. I consume their essence to supplement my parasite¡¯s capacity to sharpen how I see the world.


    Selescia and I struggled to see eye to eye before she became my second blood doll. Last night was the first time she threw herself at me in ways I have only ever seen her reserve for Lenore. Would I have resisted more had I not fed on Lenore and Selescia both?


    There is also the matter of admitting I would be lying if I did not share Selescia¡¯s worries over how Fia¡¯s artistic interests still focus on identifying the vital organs of animals she sees.


    It is with a heavy sigh of admitting defeat that I turn instead to recent events for examples. It is only fair that I give Amari practical examples that she can work with. ¡°I¡¯ve already leveled my worst memories at the Grove Tender here. She probably already knows enough that she¡¯d take it in stride no matter which name I go by.¡± I pause to grind my teeth against my lips. ¡°Even if I were to draw on more private observations, I can¡¯t help but think going by Lenore would be to my advantage.¡±


    Sensing victory, Amari¡¯s eyes alight. ¡°So what¡¯s stopping you?¡±


    I shrug. ¡°I¡¯m used to¡­ proving myself and making choices that avoid punishments or protect those I care about. I don¡¯t know enough about what you¡¯re asking to know what kinds of problems it will invite.¡±


    ¡°Assume it will.¡± Amari purrs. ¡°But I suspect that will be a conversation for you and Snapdragon.¡±


    The thought of that conversation causes my cheeks to grow warm. I can¡¯t even muster up the energy to be annoyed at Amari. ¡°You¡¯re right. And for some reason, knowing that there is someone else I can conspire to get ahead of any conflicts makes it easier for me to accept.¡± I make sure to keep Snapdragon¡¯s name off my lips, just in case.


    To call her Third just feels wrong all of a sudden.


    Astraea holds up a hand aimed at Amari. ¡°Can I ask why you¡¯re framing it like this? Why not just give yourself permission?¡±


    I hold up my own hand in a belated pleading gesture. But when it becomes clear that they intend to give me the time I need, I bring the hand to my chest.


    Deep breaths.


    My chest feels heavy all of a sudden.


    Were we not just committing ourselves to throwing our lot in with Cerya, Snapdragon, and Theriya?


    Wait.


    When did I become we?


    All at once, our focus shifts.


    There is no pain.


    Only a weak growing sense of distress.


    But my parasite is acting.


    This is new.


    ¡°I¡­¡± Our head falls into our hand. We feel strange all of a sudden. When I bleed, my parasite and I are of the same purpose. We need to push ourselves to our limit to physically and mentally adapt to threats. Sometimes the parasite needs me to nudge it in advance.


    But I¡¯ve done no such thing. And my focus from blood shed in the fight against the Grove Tender has long since faded.


    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    Our thoughts are quickly outpacing Ayre¡¯s ability to follow them.


    I¡­ Ayre, am left to pick at similar circumstances that best fit whatever my parasite is doing.


    This feels like adding my own emotional resonance to an activated gemstone implement. An overloading and subversion of purpose. Only I don¡¯t fully understand the parasite or its purpose.


    It feeds on more than blood.


    I¡¯ve exhausted Lenore¡¯s essence, memories, fears, and doubts. But it¡¯s more than that. Over time I¡¯ve accumulated a better understanding of Fia and Selescia than it feels right to admit.


    Is it feeding on me right now?


    I know that its needs outpace my own capacity to produce blood.


    Nestled atop my beating heart, it can drink whenever it wants to.


    Every broodling knows this, even before we get a parasite. It is why Lenore and I were allowed to interact with the unclaimed dolls before having the opportunity to earn a blood hungry parasite. It is a contest only one of us was meant to win.


    But the blood we have drawn from Fia and Selescia have been for sustenance only. The parasite has consumed nowhere near as much from them as it has Ayre and Lenore.


    Reflecting just back to earlier in the day, since when did knowing surface level details about my dolls become knowing with a casual certainty that Lenore treated them better?


    But what do I do about that?


    We can¡¯t just be Lenore, can we?


    Our siblings killed her. Would they not kill us?


    Just thinking that thought causes my parasite to go still, easing up the weight it is exerting on me.


    Only those names would fit us.


    My parasite is trying to help.


    A horrifying thought.


    ¡°Don¡¯t do this.¡± I say, gasping for breath.


    My fingers curl into defiant fists. ¡°Ayre is my name.¡±


    I dig nails into flesh and sink teeth into lips, anything to get through to my parasite.


    ¡°Ayre is the name the Castellan bestowed upon me after my first kill. Ayre is the name she has praised every time I have risen in the ranks.¡± My throat feels raw at the admission, but I force myself through the words.


    I can hurt myself more than that.


    ¡°Ayre is the one Lenore thought should live. I never accepted the reasons why. But she always thought the world of me. Just when I think I¡¯ve escaped, I¡¯m starting to doubt everything I¡¯ve fought to protect.¡±


    I look up at Astraea without really seeing her.


    I will desperation into my voice and force an expression crafted to convince her to stop thinking of me as more than what remains. ¡°Please, just let me be a miserable wretch content with its fate.¡±


    The tears are an unwelcome addition that sting at my eyes.


    But these are just the last desperate grasps of a self that doesn¡¯t quite encompass who we are now.


    We¡¯ve already accepted this, haven¡¯t we?


    If this is a body worth binding to those who would claim us as theirs, is it not worth reclaiming for ourselves?


    In Astraea, I find another impossible understanding.


    She offers the physical comfort of embracing someone who no longer sees themselves as broken. Feeling like we are finally whole¡­ It is something we could lose ourselves in.


    Where Ayre ends and Lenore begins ceases to matter.


    Both are welcome in Astraea¡¯s arms.


    Both are worthy of her protection.


    Our head aches.


    Our throat burns.


    And when Astraea says what Ayre cannot, we listen.


    ¡°Changing what we call you would not change who you fundamentally are. But what if I told you that you can be called something that doesn¡¯t hurt, but feels good and right?¡±


    We look up at her, resisting the urge to shake our head. But we risk an exchange of words on Ayre¡¯s behalf. ¡°I¡­ Would very much like to stop feeling like a wretch.¡±


    Astraea¡¯s expression softens.


    We feel Ayre brace for the name whose shadow they struggle to escape.


    It is a name that never comes.


    Astraea withdraws a clawed hand, saluting with a clenched fist over her heart like she is renewing some bond with us. ¡°How would you feel if your Sworn Blade addressed you as a Princess?¡±


    It catches us off guard.


    We feel warmth overtaking us.


    Something about the word teases a smile from our lips.


    But there¡¯s just never enough time for what needs to be said.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on here?¡± The voice of Thorned Watcher, Second Seed bellows aloud.


    Amari backs away as Astraea and I intercept the ten Howling Watchers marching at Second¡¯s heels.


    ¡°I could ask you the same question.¡± I say, my composure barely catching up with my voice.


    Second gazes at me with sharpened contempt. ¡°You. I don¡¯t have time for this dereliction of assigned duties. Hand over Third and the former Thorned Watcher known as Nineteen this instant.¡±


    Behind him, gemstones alight as the Howling Watchers turn their masks up and down the street.


    ¡°You¡¯ll not find them here.¡± I say. ¡°Confirm with your First if you like.¡±


    ¡°Seventh Howler.¡± Second hisses.


    Without replying, the numbered Howler makes for the barracks.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Astraea asks on my behalf.


    No one answers.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, Astraea. They are our allies and should be treated as such.¡± Until proven otherwise, of course. Heedless to the tightening of grips on those light spears of theirs, I step forward. ¡°I asked the Third Thorn to bring the ex-Watcher in for questioning. I merely wanted whatever insights the two could provide in dealing with the Cinder Blights. If this Nineteen has committed some offense, I would hear of it.¡± I say, leaning into the fact that Second hasn¡¯t tried to detain or attack me.


    This either isn¡¯t about the Grove Tender or they are only punishing Third over it. Even that feels shaky in my mind.


    Second sets his jaw. ¡°Why should I believe you? Wretch?¡±


    I slash my arm, spilling blood as I become we in the time it takes to close the distance between Second and a joined us.


    Before spears can be leveled in our direction, we lift the Watcher from the ground by his clothing and break his grip on his weapon. ¡°Simple. This alliance doesn¡¯t need you alive.¡± We say with a sickening blood hungry grin.


    We eye the first Howling Watcher to raise her spear in my direction with annoyance.


    Immediately we recognize her. There is even dried blood still staining her spear.


    Only Snapdragon drew blood by piercing the leg of one of the Howlers. Which means these must be the Howlers from that confrontation. What is Second doing leading them?


    ¡°Do it.¡± We say with a growl. We hope they know to take us seriously and go for the heart.


    Second finally gets a grip. ¡°Ignore them! You. Wretch. She-Spawn. Whatever you want to be called. Put. Me. Down!¡±


    We pull him closer. ¡°Why should we? Seedling?¡± Our gaze snaps to the others. ¡°What do any of you matter? We need only bind ourselves to the Seed Seers and rectify the situation you have already proven you cannot control.¡±


    A voice cuts me off. ¡°Is this what you want?¡± Astraea asks, drawing my gaze. ¡°Princess?¡±


    Astraea conjures her onyx parade armor as she strides toward my defense.


    She¡¯s an intimidating sight.


    Breathtaking, really.


    We hesitate.


    All it costs is a spear through Ayre¡¯s heart.


    ***


    Blood guides our hands.


    Grip firmly. Snap in two.


    Withdraw the offending weapon.


    Our life¡¯s blood flows freely now.


    With gore stained hands, we shove our attacker to the ground.


    She bites into our wrist in a vain attempt to fight back.


    Her teeth crack as our blood hardens along with our grip.


    But not on anything vital. Just her arm and forehead to keep her pinned.


    We¡¯re losing so much blood now.


    We can see and process so much.


    More spears can be felt piercing through the air.


    Astraea¡¯s strides pound in our ears.


    Our heartbeat quickens to match the tempo of the violence to come.


    Spears break against Astraea¡¯s onyx plate.


    She forms a wall at our side.


    We swing a hardened blood armored elbow, breaking the head off of another spear.


    Yet two more pierce our flesh.


    Not enough.


    Nowhere near enough.


    We laugh.


    It takes so much to kill one of the Castellan¡¯s brood.


    Lenore and I should know!


    No.


    We should know better.


    Are these seedlings not the grove¡¯s young and unproven broodlings?


    Must we climb our way to the top of another pile of corpses?


    What do we have left to prove?


    Our grip eases.


    The laughter stops.


    I hesitate, my senses faltering.


    ¡°No. None of you deserve to die over this.¡± I say, my voice lightly sounding from my head alone. Is this how Snapdragon made her voice sound lighter?


    The Watcher beneath me gasps for breath.


    Meanwhile I have to keep up with the beat of my wounded heart by breathing harder.


    The parasite is no doubt working overtime to shore up the flooding of our lungs with blood.


    Before I can figure out what¡¯s happening, my blood stained arms are wrapping around me in a tender embrace that restrains me from further action.


    The fighting has come to an end, as quick and suddenly as it began.


    In part because Astraea has already subdued two Watchers.


    And Second has turned an emerald gemstone on the rest without an implement to absorb the backlash.


    Two spears splinter in the hands of Howling Watchers as the emerald alights twice in quick succession.


    But all of this is unworthy of my attention.


    The back of my hand strokes at my cheek, leaving a trail of blood in its wake.


    My eyes narrow.


    I can feel the blood easing my hands in various directions.


    Having my own body be manipulated by another feels strange.


    It is¡­ Not entirely unpleasant.


    How could it be?


    If anything, it is nostalgic.


    Her name springs from my lips.


    ¡°Lenore.¡±


    My¡­ Her hand lowers, forming a bloody perch for my chin to rest atop.


    ¡°I¡¯ve¡­ Missed you.¡±


    The bleeding begins to slow.


    Then it all stops.


    And suddenly I feel uneasy, swaying unsteadily atop my attacker from blood loss.


    Details lose focus as the world returns to normal, my parasite¡¯s presence leaving me behind and feeling more intensely alone than ever as a sense of emptiness takes the place of someone else that should be there.


    What little I thought I knew is crumbling beneath the weight of knowing this body has preserved Lenore in more than memory.


    The remaining spear shafts in my stomach and chest make moving difficult.


    I move to tear them free, finding it takes more effort than it should. Warding off any support from Astraea with a snarl, I alone pull and scream.


    I curse the weakness of my wretched body.


    I resent the very idea that I could have ever managed to survive alone.


    Lenore was always there for me. Long after I thought I would have to go it alone.


    When I can only manage a whisper, I call out to Lenore to mend the damage.


    It is slow going.


    But the bleeding stops.


    My parasite is still alive.


    And so am I.


    It hurts to move.


    But I know with every fiber and seam of our shared being that this was worth it.


    I have my answer.


    This body belongs to Ayre and Lenore both.


    Whether Lenore is alive in some way or the parasite is acting upon the essence of her that I fed it, we are in agreement enough.


    I¡¯ll claim the blood stained title of Princess Ayre.


    I¡¯m too tired and drained to care about anything more than that.


    For all I know, the parasite has claimed us both in its own way.


    But the parasite stopped to comfort me in ways that Lenore would.


    That¡¯s enough for me.


    If my parasite wants the name Lenore, it can have it.


    It can have me too.


    Anything is worth it if it means we both get to live some semblance of a life.

 Chapter 13 – Walls of One’s Flesh and Station

    Ayre


    I am left to bear the exhaustion and dizzying amounts of pain alone. My physical movements are slow and difficult whilst my mind churns against what must be a sea of uncertainty.


    Everything has changed, and yet I feel no less like myself. If anything, it is a comfort knowing that I have been supported all this time.


    It might take time, but I would like to stop thinking of my parasite as¡­ Well that word.


    The pain at least is nothing new. I can deal with that if I pace myself and be efficient with my movements.


    Survive the now. If I can do that, we can fall apart later.


    My relentless self doubting still tugs at my thoughts. I would have to interrogate everything at this point. But knowing that doing so means perceiving my life as the Fourteenth Prince is something Lenore and I managed together fills me with excitement in place of the usual dread.


    The thoughts feel¡­ less like a shackle that tug at my attention with every clinking reminder that it is a fate I am bound to.


    But I can just ignore them! Lenore isn¡¯t going anywhere.


    A part of me dares to look forward to how I might see myself now. Maybe even in a mirror if I am feeling brave.


    For now, it is enough to know that I am still the Ayre that everyone keeps attaching themselves to for one reason or another. Just me would be hard to believe, but with Lenore¡¯s insight added to my own? It is a little easier to believe that I have achieved more than just surviving up until now.


    Instead of feeling like a wretch, I find myself seeing my position as a gift for what might be the first time. The Fourteenth of the Castellan¡¯s unholy brood is more than the sum of our shared parts.


    But how much more could I become?


    The question summons a hunger that I instinctively push away.


    Not here. Not now.


    Everyone around me is unappetizing when compared to the likes of Lenore.


    Astraea would come close, but unlike the Howling Watchers, Astraea does not register to me as prey.


    A curious thought, that.


    But now is the time to resolve this altercation.


    "Enough." A bitter harshness suffuses my voice as I focus on the aftermath of violence that has unfolded around me.


    I make it a threat by rising to my feet.


    All around me, I can reduce the estimation of the amount of danger I am in. Each and every motion of trembling hands and faltering steps signal a trepidation at seeing me back on my feet.


    That visible signs of fear and hesitation causes Second¡¯s emerald to glow gives me ideas about how to handle who I am dealing with. Second looks drained by the emerald¡¯s use.


    I must have been in a miserable state after turning the tourmaline on Mel¡¯Viora.


    The Second Thorn¡¯s reactions are delayed by a good half second behind those of the Howling Watchers, whose ears twitch at every sound.


    It is not just that I am some brutish wretch freshly spawned from the depths beneath the Castellan¡¯s castle. When my own blood retracts, hardens, and allows my body to shrug off mortal wounds, I¡¯ve become a frightening truth behind whatever stories are told of the Castellan¡¯s broodlings.


    If I can shrug off a spear to the heart and two more besides, what else can the vision of what I am in their minds be capable of?


    A cursory glance in Astraea¡¯s direction informs me that she has somehow managed to avoid breaking a sweat. She casually discards weapons she has disarmed multiple Howling Watchers of.


    Astraea is someone I will likely be able to count on in a fight. But for now, the threat of her and I together is enough to lean on.


    My gaze instead searches for Amari. I find her fresh from peeking around the cover of a building. She is unharmed and more importantly, has not directly participated in the brief bout of violence.


    Maybe the Howling Watchers will hold less of a grudge against her.


    If she wants to claim the role of my advisor in the front of the Thorned Watchers, she might as well earn the role in front of the rest. I beckon her over, wondering how much of the wider scene she witnessed from afar. "Amari. Advise me."


    To Amari¡¯s credit, she doesn¡¯t hesitate to begin striding towards the gathering to stand at my side. ¡°I should start by praising your restraint. Any deaths or maimings would have inspired grudges from the rest of the Watchers who would need to pick up the slack.¡± She nods towards the fallen Watcher who went for my heart.


    Yeah. I definitely could have used that explanation earlier. Still, her words are enough that I feel better about earlier decisions against killing a Watcher. Tripping Howling Watchers instead of killing them in the confrontation with Mel¡¯Viora means this is the second time I have shown them mercy.


    I offer my attacker a hand. ¡°An admirable attempt on my life. See that it doesn¡¯t happen again and I¡¯ll see to it that the Watcher maimed by the Third Thorn is accommodated.¡± Snapdragon¡¯s Watcher name tastes bitter on my lips, but in my state I think I can excuse slight falters in my voice.


    The Howling Watcher¡¯s fury only grows as I pull her to her feet with ease. That I can still casually exert myself leads to a few moments of visible hesitation on her part.


    She does, however, cling to her hatred.


    ¡°This changes nothing!¡± She says, spitting the bloody remains of teeth broken against my solidified blood. ¡°You maimed my sister! Maimed!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take accountability for Third¡¯s actions.¡± I say in a tired drone, unsure if I can muster any further emotion for this flailing Howler.


    One by one her siblings join in the effort it takes to restrain her from working up the nerve to lash out.


    ¡°You should be dead! Dead!¡± She screams as her fellow Howlers drag her away.


    No.


    I want to live for once.


    And not just for my dolls or Lenore, but for me.


    Somehow knowing this makes the pain easier to bear.


    It¡¯s a reminder that I am alive to internalize lessons that pain reinforces.


    If nothing else, I commend my attacker for having the courage to bite into an unholy abomination. I denied her the courtesy of dying from a spear through the heart, but she just kept up the attack.


    That kind of dedication feels like it could be valuable in the days to come.


    No more words spill from her lips. Not after her sisters gag her.


    I don¡¯t blame them. Not with their sensitive hearing and all. But I do make it a point to hear the words they use to try and calm her down.


    ¡°Nine. It¡¯s not worth this.¡±


    ¡°Let it go.¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t what our sister would want.¡±


    With the Howlers departing, the Second Thorned Watcher is left to take stock of the splintered remains of spears and my blood at his feet.


    ¡°Why side with me and not them?¡± I ask.


    Second gives me a patronizing look. When he speaks, he does so as if the answer is self-evident. "It is clear to me that you were not going to harm any of us.¡± He crosses his arms. ¡°Despite being stronger and the slighted party, you showed restraint. There are few who would give us that without strings attached.¡±


    Time to pull on that string then. ¡°If Third has done something. I¡¯ll not give her up lightly.¡±


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    Second glares at me, but the corner of his lip rises in the makings of a smirk. ¡°Dead on your feet and still making threats.¡± He rubs his jaw before shaking his head. ¡°No. I don¡¯t think that will be necessary. Odds are likely that I have been misled.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± I raise an eyebrow, likely failing to look interested.


    ¡°We don¡¯t stab someone in the heart for refusing to answer questions.¡± He says with cold amusement. ¡°Nor would we if you asked us to.¡±


    ¡°What if Mel¡¯Viora asked you to?¡± I say, attempting to pry what information I can from the unusually forthcoming Second Thorn.


    Second emphasizes her title before responding. ¡°If Grove Tender Mel¡¯Viora so much as suggested it would be in our benefit to kill you, an attempt would be made.¡± He makes a gesture to the mess of discarded weapons the Howlers left behind.


    If they needed them for something, they likely would have taken them with them. Or at least, that is what I take away from the gesture.


    A sigh issues from Second¡¯s lungs. ¡°It doesn¡¯t mean the Grove Tender wants you dead. The Howlers could be receiving a punishment in disguise.¡±


    I frown at that. ¡°You¡¯re suggesting they were set up to fail.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m merely speculating.¡± Second says, his lips tighten suddenly. As if cutting himself off.


    ¡°I¡¯ll keep Third safe in the Seed Seers¡¯ spire. Just in case.¡±


    At that, Second takes a long moment to scrutinize me. ¡°You could have killed Ninth Howler. Or worse. I asked you not to feed on my people. Even when pressed into a situation where anyone would have expected you to, you refrained from doing so.¡±


    It is my turn to cross my arms and cover up the fresh wound to my breast. ¡°Sure.¡± It is all I feel comfortable saying.


    ¡°You showed restraint. That¡¯s not nothing.¡± Second says, with each trio of words feeling like the closing out of a half formed argument.


    Is this Second¡¯s attempt at thanking me?


    ¡°I¡¯m not my siblings.¡± My voice hardens in an effort to force the distinction.


    Second slows his words, taking the time to pick the right ones. ¡°No. I see more of my sister in you than anything else.¡±


    I hold myself still, making an effort to not give anything away. How I feel about Snapdragon is no concern of his or anyone¡¯s. ¡°What are you implying?¡± I give Second a glare, feeling defensive all of a sudden.


    ¡°We¡­ I have tried my best to accommodate her. As Third, her place in our planting is to push First and I to be better, to deserve our ranks. Unlike most Thirds, she goes above and beyond to bends or warps the order within our planting that I, as Second, am expected to maintain.¡±


    Seeing Second struggle, I take a stab at getting to the point. ¡°Would passing her off to me or the Seed Seers help you maintain this¡­ Order of yours?¡± I struggle to hide my revulsion in how he is asking.


    Second¡¯s face screws up. But before he issues a rebuttal, a sigh escapes his lips. ¡°If there is no place for her in the Thorned Watchers, yes. I would formally request that you find her a place that she can¡­ Work through the issues I have failed to address. If you would like-¡±


    I raise a hand. ¡°That¡¯s enough. I¡¯ll claim her as mine should the circumstances allow it.¡±


    ¡°Alright then.¡± Second straightens up, nods, and begins to pick up the shattered spear pieces.


    I turn to eye my companions.


    Astraea is wearing a naked expression of approval. She stands at attention when I turn to her.


    There is a sense of restless energy about her. It is like this fight was not enough and she is ready to start pressing our advantage if I could only order her to take the next step.


    But the conversation I long to have with her is not one to be had out in the open. I wave her off, allowing myself to sag with the accumulated pain and exhaustion of the day.


    This causes her expression to slide into a protective concern. I wonder if she overestimates what I am capable of?


    I¡¯m not about to walk off being stabbed three times without feeding on someone.


    Amari¡¯s tail brushes against my side. She directs my attention to Second, extending an open palm in his direction.


    His back is turned. The Watcher¡¯s focus is on the task of cleaning up the blood and weapons broken in the fighting.


    ¡°Astraea.¡± I say, stiffening my voice.


    ¡°Princess?¡± Astraea replies with an onyx gauntleted salute.


    I falter, if only for a few quickened heartbeats. ¡°Would you mind helping the Second Thorned Watcher?¡±


    ¡°It would be my pleasure.¡± Astraea says with a sharp toothed smile.


    Second turns at that to give us a strange look. Even I can tell that his movements have relaxed around us. Whether it is a dulling of his senses or I have gotten through to him, only time will tell.


    Once Astraea and Second begin to coordinate, I am free to search my she-fox advisor¡¯s expression for approval.


    She responds by pressing what appears to be a folded letter into my hands.


    Turning so that no one else can see, I look over Amari¡¯s assessment of the locals.


    Have care on whom you feed. Blood runs thicker here than you might expect.


    Be wary of a reliance on stones. Your Seers cannot shape what was never theirs.


    Count the days til you quit this place. Leave as a friend or without a trace.


    I furrow my brow as I look up from the cryptic message.


    Immediately a white furred finger is pressed to my lips. Amari presses the note and my hand into a closed position with a vulpine grin.


    A look to the side confirms that Second and Astraea both had their backs turned to us.


    Amari draws my attention back to her and away from the note. ¡°You asked of your siblings. Now is the time.¡±


    I study her expression for a moment. Oh how I yearn to prick at my para¡­ My sister¡¯s perspective being joined with my own. The letter¡¯s words and change of topic demand I am at my best.


    Deciding against further strain, I content myself with giving Amari a tired look. ¡°We should start with who you expect to be paying us a visit and suspected motives.¡±


    Amari¡¯s grin becomes a self satisfied expression. ¡°Oh I can do you so much better than that, fair Princess.¡±


    I swear I told her to lay off the titles, but I choose to let this one slide. ¡°Prove it.¡±


    The she-fox starts by taking a calculated step backwards. ¡°At your Twelfth sibling¡¯s request, your swift transportation here was arranged by Prince Threnodias, Ninth of her Unholiness¡¯s brood. I was, and I quote, contractually obligated to bring you here before the next full moon.¡± Amari clasps her hands together in sync with Astraea turning on her.


    ¡°You snake!¡± Astraea shouts all of a sudden.


    ¡°Fox.¡± I sharply correct as I step between the two. ¡°She¡¯s our fox. And she¡¯s going to explain.¡± My voice harshens. ¡°Let. Her.¡±


    I stare down my Sworn Blade.


    Astraea¡¯s perfect lilac lips tighten into a compliant line.


    ¡°Amari.¡± I say with a hiss. ¡°Would you care to elaborate?¡±


    ¡°Oh with pleasure!¡± Amari says with audible amusement as her tail sways without a care in the world. ¡°No amount of coin in the world can buy the freedom of my sisters.¡±


    We both ignore the low growl that comes from Astraea.


    Amari¡¯s smile becomes a sneer. ¡°Actual blood relatives I might add, not squeezed from moon touched plants like you Lunarian Seedlings.¡±


    I feel the onyx stone plate press against my hand as Astraea grows impatient.


    A quick glance informs me that Second¡¯s jaw has set. His hands clench on an emerald and a spear head.


    I¡¯m not going to be able to hold them both back if she continues to antagonize them.


    ¡°Amari!¡± I bark.


    ¡°It¡¯s really quite simple.¡± She remarks. ¡°The goals of the Astraea here and your dangerous ninth sibling are in conflict. Astraea thought to bargain for advance warning enough to whisk you away before you were ever put in any real danger. But if you left before your siblings arrived¡­ Other lives would be forfeit.¡±


    Astraea clenches her fists.


    I prove too weak to hold her back.


    Physically, at least.


    Maybe I can still appeal to her.


    I strain against Astraea¡¯s arm, my feet digging into the stones at my feet.


    ¡°So what? Why tell us now?¡± I grit my teeth as Astraea pulls me off balance.


    That she does it so effortlessly¡­


    My next words need to count. I sink my teeth into my lips, draw forth blood, and see so clearly as I again fall to the ground.


    I get a glimpse of Amari holding herself in what registers as content resignation.


    The words she penned to me had a finality to them, as if this was all I would need to mull over to achieve my ends.


    Amari is okay if her part in this play ends here. Advise given, a ruse revealed, and parting hope.


    Whose lives would be forfeit?


    Her sisters?


    Would they die immediately? Or would there be time to stop word traveling back to wherever they are being kept captive?


    No. If that is the arrangement, Threnodias would keep his hostages close. None rise above ten without understanding how to maintain such a position.


    Besides, my estimation of Amari would fall if she made such a desperate gamble over a situation she might have control over.


    A hunger cuts me off from any last ditch show of strength or speed.


    I can¡¯t keep pressing myself like this.


    I¡¯ll have to rely on my words.


    ¡°Your sisters!¡± I shout. ¡°Astrea! Listen to me! She¡¯s forcing our hand but only because she needs our help!¡± I slam my fist into the stone ground. ¡°We can¡¯t hurt her. Not for that.¡±


    Astraea pauses mid stride.


    Amari looks up at Astraea, unconcerned for her own safety. ¡°I¡¯m bound to play my role. Same as any of you.¡± There is no apology in her tone or words.


    And why should there be?


    My heart aches with a weight bearing down hard against it as I weigh the kind of resignation that leads to a beloved sibling sacrificing herself for another.


    Astrea looms over Amari, already within arm¡¯s reach.


    My heart begins to sink.


    ¡°Amari.¡± Astraea¡¯s voice hardens into low husky pitch. ¡°Give me a reason why I shouldn¡¯t kill you.¡±


    ¡°Astraea.¡± My voice falters. ¡°Don¡¯t.¡±


    Amari¡¯s shoulders sag as she offers Astraea a sad smile. ¡°I can¡¯t. I¡¯m already willing to trade my life for theirs. Which is why I need a miracle. You and Ayre are the best card I have to play. I would pay any cost to right the wrong of bringing them to Vylian shores.¡±


    Astraea stiffens. Her head gently falls forward to press against Amari¡¯s own. My Sworn Blade¡¯s voice falls to a whisper. ¡°You could have told me.¡±


    The fox shakes her head. ¡°I can¡¯t afford to trust like that. Not here. Not when I am surrounded by monsters.¡± She looks up to meet Amari¡¯s eyes. ¡°It was all I could do to pit you against each other.¡±


    Astraea cradles Amari¡¯s cheek, stilling the fox¡¯s shaking head. ¡°I need you to understand me.¡±


    I hold my breath as Amari gives Astraea a slow nod.


    Astraea¡¯s words are cold and dispassionate. ¡°The only reason you still draw breath is that you have appealed to the heart of the Princess I serve. Whether you have done so with a liar¡¯s tongue, clever manipulation, or out of a heartfelt love for your siblings is irrelevant to me.¡±


    Amari swallows, her eyes closing shut.


    An Onyx gauntleted claw runs the length of Amari¡¯s throat. ¡°There is no life I would not trade if it meant prolonging Ayre¡¯s life.¡±


    ¡°Astraea.¡± We say, pouring our heart into this plea. ¡°She¡¯s more useful to us alive than dead.¡±


    Our Sworn Blade¡¯s head tilts to the side. ¡°Perhaps.¡± Slowly, Astraea withdraws her hand.


    Amari¡¯s tail remains stiff. When her eyes open, we both watch as Astraea falls to one knee. ¡°You may keep the coin I promised you. But in exchange for the lives of you and your sisters, I will demand that you swear a new contract to me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll do anything-¡± Amari starts.


    Astraea cuts her off. ¡°This one will be bound in blood and sworn under rites of old.¡±


    There is no hesitation. Determination alights in Amari¡¯s eyes as she balls her own hands into fists. ¡°Free my sisters from the tyrant Threnodias, and I will bind my fate to yours.¡±


    Astraea turns to me. ¡°Princess, You have my apologies. But I must ask that you grant me leave to do whatever is necessary to save her sisters. Please, do not endanger yourself if I need to leave your side to achieve this.¡±


    I find myself letting go of the breath I¡¯ve been holding. ¡°Of course.¡±


    Feeling a little self conscious about witnessing such an exchange, I find myself casting a wary glance at the Second Thorn.


    The raised corner of his lips drops. ¡°That the three of you court ruination so openly is of no interest to me.¡± His voice is as harsh as his words.


    As he turns to leave us with an armful of broken spears, I catch a roll of the eyes. ¡°You know as well as I do that it is only treason if you fail. I would wish you well, but I think we would all be better off if you failed.¡±


    Several steps later, we all hear the Second Thorn sigh aloud. ¡°I¡¯ll speak to First about joining you for tonight¡¯s full moon. It is the least I can do.¡±

 Chapter 14 - Binding Promises, Sworn in Blood

    Cerya


    When I am not teaching seedlings how to adapt to the grove¡¯s ever changing demands, I often find myself tasked with overseeing others as they go about more delicate work.


    Normally it would be a delight to watch as the plantings I have taught look out for each other.


    Today is not one of those days.


    Remains of corpses animated by Cinder Blighted wounds form a pile that rises to my shoulders. None of the affected wildlife will be safe for consumption. Not when the smallest traces of Cinder Blighted stone can survive for countless eclipses beneath the ground without need for air or water.


    It is already midday and we are still finding living pieces of the crystalline infestation embedded in stonework or hidden in the underbrush.


    Seven whole plantings of young and capable seedlings have been assigned to this task. Anyone with experience hunting, gathering, or handling corpses is eligible to receive assignment of Cinder Blight corpse disposal. Each corpse demands great care in being subdued or otherwise being rendered incapable of inflicting further harm. Only then will it be safe to transport the blighted remains to a kiln.


    With this many bodies at risk of being cut by blighted stone, an abundance of careful oversight is required.


    Standing apart from the hard working Seedlings, the watchful eyes of Mel¡¯Viora¡¯s many elder Seers stand poised to identify and address any problems. Most of them range from Sprouts to Blossoms in age.


    This leaves me with the least amount of authority.


    Under the scrutiny of my most distant and elderly sisters, things are being run differently.


    The moment a Seedling slows or shows signs of strain, they are promptly called out and replaced. There is little doubt in my mind that they are being thoroughly examined for signs of Cinder Blight. But no one gets closure when no one returns from being called away. Even removing the blighted stone demands a recovery time measured in the passing of a sun or moon.


    Entire other plantings that finish other tasks are eventually called in to reinforce any plantings that lose too many members to remain effective. Being forced to cooperate with strangers on the same task is a source of stress for many.


    Most of the Seedlings are young enough that they turn to me for support or lodge their complaints. I can see it in their eyes, the hope that I will show leniency where my elder sisters would not.


    But there can be no room for mistakes or dissent. That I am a Seedling is secondary to my role as a Seer. I am bound to carry out the unpleasant task of enforcing stricter demands on those I would prefer to be lenient.


    Each harsh word I am expected to deliver is a wedge between the divide between teacher and student.


    With each averted look, I feel the sting of becoming just another Seer in the eyes of these young plantings. They will turn instead to the rest of their plantings for support.


    Maybe I should have departed when the First Thorned Watcher did. We are long past the point where her memory of the night¡¯s events will find us the bulk of the remnants.


    The task of scouring the area for every last trace of Cinder Blight now demands we cast a much wider net. Risking any surviving Blight is unacceptable. Which means I can¡¯t risk squeezing out more Resonance to fill the opal for Ayre.


    I am just left to watch and call attention to those who are beginning to tire. It is thankless work.


    Between this and what resonance extraction I have already done, the emotional drain is starting to get to me. But seeing as the task is not all that physically or mentally demanding, I am left to stew over regretting how little I can do here.


    It is a shame.


    For the Lunarian seedlings, yes.


    But the Cinder Blights do not deserve extermination to this degree.


    Just in case, I drain any trace of emotion from my expression, lest my distant sisters turn on me for showing sympathy to an enemy.


    The dark opal is useful in making my dour expression more than just convincing. How can I be upset when I can freely consign every thought of gloom towards the purpose of keeping Ayre alive?


    I turn over the well worn remains of a memory.


    Hopelessness numbs into indifference as a memory of me thumbs through a collection of books on the topic of Mel¡¯Viora¡¯s most recent ban. Every record of the grove¡¯s interaction and studies covering a species of living crystalline entities was to be rededicated to kindling for the season of snowfall.


    Not a ten-moon later the rich and fascinating entities contained within those books would be reduced to the classification of pest that would come to be known as Cinder Blights.


    Teachings had to be adapted. My understanding of what justified the change came in the form of needing to teach how to identify and treat wounds caused by a new behavior in these fascinating entities that eventually led to taking over a body¡¯s ability to move. Martially inclined plantings had been assigned extermination tasks. Whispers spread throughout the Seedlings that someone lost the ability to move their arm, demanding it be removed.


    I was reminded that one of the more recent banned records that Theriya had confiscated suggested these crystalline entities might respond well to Emotional Resonance.


    It was not difficult to imagine why these entities would take issue with being turned into living weapons. Now they were attempting to do the same to us.


    I lost count of how many books I had been tasked with destroying.


    The memory itself begins to fray in my mind.


    I release the dark opal, returning it to a pocket.


    Already the memory feels like it is from another life.


    Or am I becoming a stranger to those exposed to far more than what few lessons I have been allowed to teach? This is not the environment for seeds of a brighter future to find nourishment or sprout.


    No. I suspect my troubles run far deeper than that. There are moments where I suspect I am a stranger to even myself. That I can only dimly remember attempts being made at purging those crystalline entities has remained a source of concern.


    I am too invested in trying to preserve the history of these crystalline entities to not stay up to date on the progress of their extermination.


    My memories grow weaker right around the time the Twelfth Vylian Prince led a campaign to assist in exterminating Cinder Blights in the vicinity of our grove. It was a period of around thirty moons where I can recall only the most basic of details.


    Snapdragon and I were not close at that time.


    Which leaves only my dearest sister Theriya.


    She tells me not to worry about it but I know when my sister is hiding something from me. I also suspect that it hurts her to keep it from me.


    Lies and coercion are my specialties, not hers.


    It is curious that she immediately resorted to preparing a crude binding of her own the moment Ayre arrived at our spire.


    It is almost like she is worried about me getting hurt.


    For the first time?


    Or the second?


    I know that the Vylian blood hunger drains more than the blood for which it is named. Were it not for the Cinder Blight demanding my attention, I had been hoping to spend the day contriving opportunities to study the perception altering effects on the one called Selescia.


    How much will she remember from last night?


    Will her memories have hard edges to them that sting to recall before tapering off entirely?


    Or will I need Ayre to feed on me in order to be sure?


    Speaking of my future bound-to-be, where is Ayre?


    I expected them to turn up long before now.


    Surely Astraea and the vulpine girl with the flowery speech would bring Ayre here like I asked.


    The first explanation that occurs to me is that I have been misreading Astraea. Has she merely been humoring me with a passionate dedication on account of what I represent?


    I am desperate to know what went into sculpting the perfect features of her form. Where does she come from that they allow so much time for honing a body like hers?


    By comparison, I feel like a fresh Seedling on my first attempt at working with clay. I even briefly entertain the naive thought that Ayre prefers girls with violet shades of skin.


    As lovely as it is to indulge in such notions, it is far more likely that Ayre got involved in a situation or misunderstanding that my presence could help alleviate.


    Maybe it is time I excuse myself.


    But that presents a problem. It would be unwise to leave any room for doubt of my commitment to this particular cause.


    I will need to be convincing.


    Four spiral horns crown the head of Sapling Seer Eluned. Unlike most Lunarians cultivated to conform to the grove¡¯s needs, she and I have been allowed to play a hand in our own making. Knowing how to cultivate changes in ourselves and others is an important skill for anyone with dreams of starting a grove of their own. All Seers stand apart from standardized plantings in that way, but Eluned stands out more than most.


    Where I am all curves and pliable violet flesh, she is dense muscle packed into a hulking auburn frame. While I sharpened my ears, she sharpened her teeth and tastes. Four deep chestnut eyes of a Seer who willingly bound herself to the previous Fourteenth Vylian Prince turn to affix me with a hard glare.


    Two of her four arms beckon me closer. ¡°Little Cerya. You look troubled. Open your heart to me.¡±


    I cast a hesitant look in the direction of the nearest plantings of Lunarian Seedlings. No one would risk slacking off in front of Eluned.


    But I¡¯m putting on a show.


    I grimace with very real pain before stepping closer to Eluned. Pulling back the sleeve of my robe, I reveal two bright red stones embedded in my bleeding forearm. ¡°You have the steadiest hands.¡±


    Eluned¡¯s eyes widen at the sight of Cinder Blight burning its way into my arm.


    Immediately her grip tightens around my wrist and shoulder. A glass knife is drawn by a third hand.


    The Sapling Seer adopts a hard matronly tone as she makes this a teachable moment. ¡°You consign yourself overly much to stone. It is making you careless.¡±


    I lower my own horned head. ¡°You know how behind we are. And now there¡¯s a Vylian Prince I¡¯m supposed to bind myself to.¡±


    Eluned tenses up, but only for a moment.


    Glass digs into my forearm.


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    The first blighted stone¡¯s removal only causes me to grit my teeth. It is the second that buried itself deep enough in my flesh to spread roots.


    I scream, clinging to my sister in a moment of weakness.


    While I catch my breath, Eluned cauterizes and binds the wound before letting me go. ¡°Little Cerya. Your duties must magnify to reflect your ever growing sense of self worth.¡±


    It is a familiar refrain.


    I turn away from her dismissively. ¡°This Prince is a stitched together mess. I don¡¯t feel like Theirya and I are being taken seriously.¡±


    Predictably, her grip tightens at my shoulder. ¡°Vylian Nobility are creatures of passion and impulse. They will require much patience on your part before they settle into more agreeable patterns.¡± Her nails dig into my flesh, signaling her real point. ¡°You, on the other hand, have no such excuse.¡±


    I turn to face her, taking a long moment to visibly drain the emotion from my features. ¡°Apologies Sapling Sister. You¡¯re right.¡±


    Eluned eases up on her grip before tucking my hair back behind my ears. ¡°Why do I distinctly get the feeling that you are pushing yourself beyond what you are capable of? No. I think you need time to center yourself.¡±


    I narrow my eyes.


    She shows off her sharpened canines, daring me to argue with her.


    I give her at least a taste of malicious compliance. ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to keep you in mind when I regrow the flesh you carved out of me.¡±


    ¡°Spite does not become you, little sister.¡± Eluned says with a derisive chortle. ¡°You must know yourself well enough to act in response to even emotions that no longer resonate.¡±


    I quirk an eyebrow. ¡°Are you really about to lecture me on reason and principles?¡±


    ¡°If I have to.¡± Elune¡¯s expression and voice softens. ¡°No one should be able to hurt you. Not in any lasting capacity.¡±


    I flick at one of Eluned¡¯s thick arms. ¡°Are you going to tell me that I should be unmoved unless I permit myself to be moved?¡±


    ¡°For now, little Seed Seer, it is enough that you know your limits.¡± Her eyes drift to the side.


    I recognize the look.


    One of the other seedlings has made themselves a target.


    ¡°Harden your heart, little Cerya. You will master how to handle this Vylian Prince before long.¡± She releases me. ¡°I look forward to the day that I can call you a Sapling Sister.¡±


    ¡°And I eagerly await the day you blossom, Eluned.¡± I say, excusing myself.


    When I again turn away from Eluned, two Watchers stand poised to escort me back to the tree spire dedicated to Seed Seers.


    They do not even need me to dismiss them.


    And why should they? No one knows about Cinder Blight¡¯s effects more than the Seers who are tasked with confiscating any and all information on the topic.


    My blood stained hands reach out to touch a door already stained with blood.


    With mounting trepidation, I set foot in my home while taking great care to not make a sound.


    Ayre¡¯s voice greets me with words not meant for me. ¡°Which brings me to my last question. How much did you overhear, Amari?¡±


    Amari responds with a playful lilt. ¡°Who me? Oh I heard every word.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s lying.¡± Ayre hurriedly cuts in to say between the sounds of pacing boots.


    Astraea¡¯s voice sounds next, carrying with it an emotional investment. ¡°I don¡¯t think she is.¡±


    Ayre¡¯s groan causes me to form a sympathetic smile. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you can also explain why you two are both¡­ intimate all of a sudden.¡±


    It is everything I can do to cover my mouth and not make a sound.


    Oh Ayre.


    I was worried for a moment.


    ¡°If you¡¯ll allow me to speak.¡± Amari starts. When no one stops her, I hear the creak of a table shift. ¡°I think Astraea¡¯s needs should be a priority conversation between the two of you. One best kept private.¡±


    ¡°Astraea?¡± Ayre asks with hesitation.


    ¡°I promise I will explain.¡± Astraea says as the striding of boots come to a halt. ¡°But not here. Not now. My needs cannot come before your own.¡±


    A silence falls over the room.


    ¡°I want to trust you.¡± Ayre says, their voice low.


    Astraea¡¯s voice catches in her throat. ¡°Princess.¡±


    I pause mid stride, not wanting to miss another word.


    It is Amari¡¯s voice that breaks the tense silence that follows. ¡°As touching as all of this is. Allow me the opportunity to make myself useful.¡±


    Ayre hisses at her.


    ¡°Hear me out. Send Astraea to confirm if you must.¡± I barely even know this Amari but I can already picture the smugness in her self assurance. ¡°Your darling little Fia has been awake this entire time. She set at once down the stairs to investigate our arrival, but has since retreated to her bedding.Judging by the amount of positions she shifted through while we have been talking, she¡¯s still deciding what position will most convince you that she is asleep.¡±


    ¡°Amari.¡± It is Astraea¡¯s turn to harden her voice. I do not quite register it as a threat, but there is an intensity in her voice too difficult for me to read.


    ¡°Fine! Fine. Don¡¯t disturb the pretty little blood doll whose sketches focus on how to cut into every animal that captures her fancy.¡± Amari¡¯s voice is interrupted by boots crossing the room.


    Those footfalls are intercepted right around where I imagine Astraea to be, a guarded position leaning against the entrance to the dining room.


    Amari continues unchallenged. ¡°How about you put your bound-to-be Seed Seer out of her misery and clue her into the parts of this conversation that no amount of overhearing will explain?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Astraea barks, snapping to attention.


    ¡°Leave us.¡± Is all Ayre says. ¡°Make yourselves useful and fetch Fia. I¡¯ll¡­ I¡¯ll explain everything. We have a lot of planning to discuss once Snapdragon arrives.¡±


    ¡°Good luck, Princess.¡± Amari¡¯s voice is cut off by a heavier set of boots storming in her direction. She is quickly ushered out of the room and upstairs.


    But there¡¯s that word again.


    Princess.


    I swore I had misheard.


    I take that as my cue to finish ascending the stairs.


    Bloody rags hang from a bowl of water.


    Two chairs lay discarded on the floor. I missed more than one argument, it seems.


    And at the center of this scene stands someone I have chosen to care for dressed in the blood stained attire of someone I have failed.


    My Ayre, wearing the garb of the Nineteenth Thorn.


    What has happened to you?


    How can you smile with a face still wet with tears and a face half covered in blood?


    ¡°Sit.¡± I say, lifting up a chair.


    They do so.


    ¡°Good.¡± I offer praise before gesturing to the rags.


    Ayre nods.


    I make sure to again get their confirmation before sitting opposite them and applying damp cloth to bloody flesh.


    ¡°At your own pace.¡± Are the words I offer Ayre.


    They pull away thrice. Each is accompanied by a wince or a cry of pain.


    Each time I stop, Ayre invites me to continue. By the third time, they begin to gesture with impatience.


    It is not gentleness they crave, but to press through the pain.


    The words come eventually.


    An admission here.


    An explanation there.


    It is not until Ayre¡¯s shirt comes off that I understand the scope of what has been done.


    I shout for Astraea to find me tools for stitching.


    Amari is directed elsewhere for thread.


    Ayre assures Fia that they do not need to feed before dismissing her.


    Snapdragon and the formerly Nineteenth Thorn¡¯s arrival becomes an excuse to fetch me more clean water and rags I do not need.


    The more Ayre talks, the more I realize that Ayre is struggling to process what has happened to them. Twice I catch them trying to convince themselves and I that something didn¡¯t happen.


    Beyond the gemstones, their wounds, and the stress of everything that has happened, it eventually becomes clear that Ayre is avoiding one topic in particular.


    I don¡¯t want to push them.


    Not if they are unready or unwilling to share.


    Astraea alone brings a basket containing everything I asked for.


    It only takes a shake of the head between Astraea and I to communicate that Ayre and I are not to be disturbed.


    I get to work on wiping the blood away from Ayre¡¯s chest when something demands I stop.


    In the silence between us, I realize that Ayre is holding their breath.


    ¡°Your body is healing.¡± I say, not making it a question.


    I watch as their eyes knit themselves shut instead of looking down. ¡°Yeah.¡±


    I¡¯ve seen the scars.


    Counted them to steady my nerves when they lay across from me last night.


    Where I expected to find fresh scars beneath the blood, I arrived at a count of five fewer than there were last night. I hesitate pointing out the detail that caused me to initially stop. ¡°Your chest.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s softer.¡± Ayre whispers in reply.


    Their hand explores what their eyes dare not. It is a subtle thing considering the uneven pattern of how Ayre¡¯s body fits together. But Ayre¡¯s chest has always largely been theirs. Or at least, until now.


    When Ayre goes still, it is only after their shoulders fall and a tension bleeds out of them.


    Ayre holds their breath for longer than I am comfortable with, releasing it with a gasp and a fresh torrent of raw words and emotions. ¡°Is it weird to admit that I¡¯m kind of scared?¡±


    I want to offer Ayre a smile, but their body is changing on them. And I don¡¯t get the impression that it is their doing.


    ¡°No. Never.¡± I say, offering Ayre my hand.


    They take it, squeezing hard.


    ¡°I thought I figured everything out. But now that I¡¯m free to just fall apart from the day¡¯s events, I¡¯m worried I got it all wrong.¡± Their breath hitches. ¡°I worry the person I was before today is going to disappear.¡±


    My mind blanks at Ayre¡¯s words.


    It is a sudden and disarming feeling.


    It takes an effort of will to pull the pale violet hand that I logically know to be mine away from Ayre¡¯s chest.


    When I reach for words, I find myself reaching for something as true as it is harsh. Is this what Ayre wants to hear? Or do I crave connection in this moment of familiar vulnerability?


    ¡°We are, as beings of soft flesh and not of hardened stone, forever growing and changing.¡± I keep my delivery cold and impartial until Ayre opens their eyes.


    Something about seeing their eyes opening to emerge from pools of black sclera in search of my gaze tugs at tender memories of Snapdragon struggling to deal with her sensory issues.


    I make it a point to favor Ayre with a softer expression and voice. ¡°It is not always for the best. Wounds don¡¯t always heal right. The scars we don¡¯t see cannot always be relied upon to fade.¡±


    Ayre tenses up.


    I press them on this, digging my thumb into their palm. ¡°You and I do not have the luxury of understanding one another. However much we might desire companions who understand, nothing is guaranteed for the likes of us.¡±


    Ayre shows their fangs, and I watch them contemplate three different forms of self harm before resisting the call of each.


    My thumb eases up. I move instead to slow circular massaging movements. ¡°No amount of time or pain will help me understand what has been done to you. Theriya and I have already been hurt in ways that will forever shape how we will interpret anything you share with us.¡±


    It takes Ayre a moment, but the tension in their grip loosens.


    I want to smile, but I have only a deep and profound sadness to share. ¡°You on the other hand, can claim our understanding for yourself.¡± Seeing Ayre''s response, I realize that what I am asking is unfair.  I would be asking Ayre to bear the burden of knowing something I do not think can be fixed.


    But with it would come any number of insights that I think would make fulfilling their role easier to carry out.


    At last I coax out a verbal reply. ¡°What would you ask of me?¡±


    It hurts me to hear them immediately spring to expressing a need to make themselves useful. Bloody, bruised, and drained in more ways than one, what more would Ayre be willing to put themselves through?


    ¡°Before anything else.¡± I draw out the moment with a gentle squeeze of Ayre¡¯s hand. ¡°I need you to tell me if you¡¯re okay. If you need rest, time, or to feed, anything at all¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m good.¡± Ayre says.


    And there¡¯s that smile again.


    ¡°Ayre.¡± I reach out, my hand stopping inches from the scars. ¡°Your heart and body are not stones. They need nourishment to live.¡±


    It is with a heavy sigh that Ayre deflects away from my reasoning. ¡°I don¡¯t know what I need anymore. This parasite of mine, I¡¯m starting to not see it as such. I worry that I am making a mistake I can¡¯t come back from.¡±


    ¡°Please. Don¡¯t rush this, okay?¡± I say, with one last squeeze of the hand.


    Again I get a nod of confirmation.


    I have already decided to accept them as they are.


    Right now that means taking them at their word.


    ¡°I only ask, because I want you to be the one who decides what we are fighting for.¡± I say, releasing Ayre¡¯s hand from my grip.


    Ayre opens and closes their mouth. They do as I ask and sit with it for a few moments.


    Eventually, their shoulders slump.


    ¡°Why me?¡±


    Again my heart and mind betray me by wanting to dive headfirst into memories I can no longer reach.


    It is my turn to mirror Ayre¡¯s slumped shoulders. I at least make it a point to lean against them. ¡°I can¡¯t tell you. I wish I could.¡±


    Ayre¡¯s head cocks to the side.


    I watch as one of their fangs rubs bloodlessly against their lower lip.


    I take a deep breath.


    And I really make the effort to center myself, but not for myself. Unlike what Elune intended, I allow myself to resonate with the full scope of emotions from having a chunk of my past taken from me.


    I let those emotions rise to a boil. All of the anger, fury, and spite rises to my head.


    ¡°You should know that I think one of your other siblings has already fed on me. I don¡¯t really remember it. The how or why is lost to me. All I know is that I keep running into gaps in my memory. The Cinder Blights are something I feel like I should have stronger opinions on than I do. I can¡¯t help but think I was punished for something.¡±


    Ayre stops me, brushing a tear from my cheeks.


    ¡°And now I¡¯m asking you to relive all of that.¡± My voice cracks, demanding I take a moment to just breathe. ¡°If I¡¯m being honest with you, I don¡¯t trust myself sometimes. I want someone I can rely on. Someone who really sees me like no one else can.¡±


    I let these emotions just sit and resonate with me. I give into my emotions knowing that I am sitting opposite from someone whose depths of emotion might rival my own.


    ¡°I¡¯m asking you to share a burden that I am uncomfortable putting into words.¡± I lift my arm bound in bloody bandages. Whether Ayre is willing to feed or not, this is a wound that will leave me feverish and bedridden before moonrise.


    Ayre¡¯s grip tender when they take my arm in theirs. ¡°What happened?¡±


    I take a deep breath before tightening my lips. ¡°Cinder Blight.¡± Are the only words I offer Ayre.


    Ayre¡¯s expression darkens. ¡°Cerya.¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°I need to know whether you are willing to feed on me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not scared of the Blight.¡± Ayre says. ¡°It didn¡¯t affect my brother. Shouldn¡¯t affect me.¡± They sound like they are trying to convince themselves. It is almost enough that I threaten to pull my arm away.


    Maybe it would be better for Ayre and I to be bedridden with a minor affliction than subject Ayre to a night of fighting these things.


    But it¡¯s not the affliction I¡¯m worried about.


    I need Ayre to know that these are not just some creature, but species with a long history of violent retribution against those who tried to turn them into a weapon.


    I worry that Ayre will see themself in these creatures. But I want them to go into this with their eyes open to what they are doing.


    A sympathetic look is all I can offer Ayre. ¡°I know that feeding changes you. And that each drop of blood you drink from another will make you further unrecognizable to yourself.¡±


    Ayre¡¯s forehead lowers to rest against my arm. ¡°You¡¯re asking me to hurt you.¡±


    There is nothing left for me to feel sorry for.


    I know where I stand.


    ¡°You and I are already bound to each other¡¯s ends and means. Neither of us gets to choose that. What I can offer you is the gift of knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that I am always going to accept you and claim you as mine.¡± My voice trembles as Ayre¡¯s hands begin to tighten around my arm.


    I begin to unwind the bandage, offering up the essence that flows through my veins.


    Their fingers interlock with mine in a last tender little gesture. Ayre¡¯s breath slows. ¡°What you offer, we will accept only if you give your blessing.¡±


    We.


    Am I going to be included in that word?


    How will things change between us once Ayre knows how I see the world? Will they forgive me for subjecting them to the cruelties committed by their siblings?


    The truth is, Ayre had me the moment they admitted they feared losing themselves.


    Already those closest to them have begun to call Ayre Princess.


    The flesh over their heart is healing in a way that strikes the both of us as unambiguously feminine.


    ¡°You have our blessing Ayre.¡± I tenderly reach out to offer Ayre¡¯s cheek a caress.


    They linger with their head in my hand long enough for me to offer them some final words of comfort.


    ¡°Take from me only what you are comfortable with. Know that yours is the strength that will define how much we can change our shared circumstances.¡±


    Ayre¡¯s head twists and turns against my hand, but they do not dispute my words.


    Slowly.


    Thoughtfully.


    Ayre explores the reddened wounds of my arm for a spot that hurts the least.


    And then they take from me the promise of blood and understanding that I too carry a version of me that I have long considered dead.


    Unlike Ayre or Snapdragon, I may be comfortable with the role assigned to me. But this does not exempt me from the violence exerted upon any deviation from the means and ends of what is expected of us.

 Chapter 15 – Matters of Perspective

    Ayre


    My voice trembles in spite of me. ¡°That¡¯s enough.¡±


    I am the first to pull away from the feeding. Before it is safe to collapse under the compounding burdens of the day adding Cerya¡¯s injuries to my own, I ease Cerya back into the chair.


    My Seed Seer¡¯s hair cascades down around her, a number of bands having come loose during the feeding. Her stricken expression softens when she sees herself mirrored in me, at least in discomfort.


    Without words, I am bidden into her embrace.


    I hesitate, but only briefly.


    Cerya flinches at my touch. Before I can pull away, she clings to me, sinking her own teeth into my shoulder to stifle a cry.


    I reach for an apology.


    But I know that the wounds are beyond the reach of physical touch or words.


    ¡°Never again.¡± I make a promise as I wipe Cerya¡¯s blood from my lips. ¡°Twelve will never be allowed to harm you. Never again.¡±


    Cerya¡¯s head nestles into the space between my shoulder and neck. ¡°All I ask is that you not undertake this alone.¡±


    I¡¯m not sure I can promise that. There¡¯s no telling if my siblings will outmaneuver or overpower me.


    I have Astraea.


    But I don¡¯t even know what kind of numbers my siblings will bring with them. It will probably not be too many. Not with the logistics of needing to keep out from under the moonlight each night.


    Still.


    ¡°Give me a while to think?¡± Are the words I settle on. ¡°I need to process everything. Talk to everyone.¡±


    ¡°Before you leave to deal with the full moon tonight.¡± Is the time limit Cerya demands of me.


    ¡°I can promise that.¡± I say.


    ¡°Good.¡± Cerya says, sitting up to smooth out her hair. ¡°I¡¯ll prepare a bath for you in the morning. We¡¯ll find you some fresh clothes to meet your siblings in.¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°I suspect I¡¯ll have the clothes covered.¡± Already I am thinking of what I can get out of Amari. ¡°But a bath sounds nice. It¡¯s something I didn¡¯t think I would miss at the castle. Spending as many days as I have on the road¡­¡± I allow my words to taper off as I rise to my feet.


    Turning away, I am struck with a sick feeling in my stomach.


    All at once the room around me becomes more and less familiar. It feels like home in that it is the only place that Cerya feels safe. But at the same time, everything within the room is arranged wrong. Something about it makes the space feel like it is no longer mine.


    No. I¡¯m still feeling the effects of feeding on Cerya. This is all her that I am resonating with.


    I want to brush the thought off. This space is shared by Theriya, Snapdragon, and the girls I have brought with me. But no. They¡¯ve done nothing to change this space.


    I am left to grasp with the distinct impression that the hands that made this space unfamiliar are my own.


    Cerya¡¯s perspective is a disquieting one. I try to blink away this warped familiarity as I sway on my feet.


    I find myself leaning into Cerya¡¯s outstretched arm and Lenore¡¯s presence resurfacing. It is like any lingering sense of loneliness is washed away, replaced by a want that I cannot name. I just¡­ I want to be around the two of them more.


    We hold each other steady, Cerya, Lenore, and I.


    Our heart thrums into Cerya¡¯s ear. And we know it pleases her before the smile tugs at her lips and spreads into her cheeks. With her head once again pressed against us in gentle concern, we are left with a clear view of the horn that parts the billowing clouds of her hair. Much like Astraea¡¯s own horns, hers is a touch darker than the rest of her skin.


    Cerya takes our hand and guides our fingers gently through her hair. When it is smoothed out, Theriya works on binding one half of it up at regular intervals while we do the other side. The muscle memory of Lenore¡¯s hands and Cerya¡¯s familiarity with her own hair allows us to keep pace. Despite Ayre never once needing to take care of someone¡¯s hair, the final result is only slightly mismatched from what Cerya¡¯s hands produce.


    Our Seed Seer gathers her freshly bound hair into her arms and seems to cherish this moment.


    We offer no apologies or excuses for any imperfections. We just accept that things are different now. To linger in the past would detract from what we have. There is no amount of fighting that can bring back Ayre and Lenore having their own bodies. Enough blood will be shed over protecting what we have now.


    Hope for the future demands surviving what threatens us in the present. What the past offers us is an opportunity to accept that we are all in agreement.


    Twelve has taken much from the three of us gathered in this room.


    If Mel¡¯Viora is anything to go by, leveraging our own pains at him will do little beyond inspiring him to ever greater cruelties.


    How many dolls have we heard of Twelve discarding? Can we afford to commit to anything less than killing and replacing him? To merely best Twelve will lead to them feeding on others with no regards to their safety.


    If we fail, how many more broodlings fresh from the depths will be shown senseless cruelty at Twelve¡¯s hands?


    Are Cerya, Lenore, and all who have already been harmed by our Twelfth sibling not enough? Could we not do better in Twelfth¡¯s place? And not for the reasons Vylia expects of us, but to actually leverage our power and position into bargaining on behalf of those we care about?


    It is almost enough that we can smother my doubts about how we now view the Cinder Blights.


    Lenore¡¯s presence passes, taking with it the need for more blood.


    I am left feeling more whole and assured of myself. It is hard to think of my parasite as such when the clarity lingers.


    Leveraging the transfer of strength, I lift Cerya into my arms and carry her to her favorite chair at the far end of the table.


    She would not want to be excluded from what comes next.


    It is hard not to anticipate her wants beyond what she desired for me to take away in this feeding.


    I have long fretted about the kind of harm my feeding might have had on others. To see the constant withering and discarding of the blood dolls kept by most of my siblings is enough to hold them in contempt.


    But to feed upon Cerya is to taste that something has always been missing. I cannot glimpse the whole of what was lost. Not when there is nothing to feed on beyond the edges of memories stained by the loss of a greater whole. Hers is an absence that affects everything around it, demanding a need for definition without substance.


    For Cerya, there is nothing to feed on from that period of time.


    For me, I¡¯ve actively avoided comparisons for so long that I probably can¡¯t be trusted to measure the differences between this body and the one I had before.


    What could the three of us achieve without Twelve inserting himself into our lives?


    Which leads me to the question of the hour. What am I willing to do to make it stop?


    I sigh, prompting a raising of the eyebrow from Cerya.


    ¡°Snapdragon was right.¡± I say. ¡°Like it or not. I¡¯m going to need the Watchers alive.¡±


    Which means I can¡¯t expend or dispose of them in my fight against the Cinder Blights.


    Nor can I exterminate the Cinder Blights. Not that I can even engage with that topic seriously without maps and a better understanding of recent events.


    Maybe, just maybe, I can use them as a pretext to bait the Twelfth Prince into a vulnerable position.


    I make for the door to find that Astraea and Fia have dutifully sent the ones with more sensitive hearing to wait outside. Amused, I offer the two of them a thankful smile.


    ¡°Fia dearest, could you fetch Cerya and I something to drink? Ask Cerya what she wants. You can pick whatever you like for me.¡± I offer and indulge Fia with head pats before turning to Astraea. ¡°Tell Snapdragon to bring me any maps she has of the area that relate to conflicts with the Cinder Blight.¡±


    We have plans to make.


    And it is long overdue that I actually start to act like the Prince everyone expects of me. It is the least I can do if I am going to demand others refer to me as a Princess.


    Speaking of which. I eye the bowl of fresh bandages brought to us by Astraea.


    ***


    By the time everyone begins to arrive, Cerya has finished helping me bind my chest.


    ¡°You¡¯re the Nineteenth Thorn.¡± I say, glancing at the wooden prosthetic arm of the new arrival. It is a crude thing that I suspect does not even come close to matching the function of what was lost.


    ¡°Not anymore.¡± He replies. ¡°Not until I prove my worth elsewhere. Only then will they provide me with a replacement arm suited to my new role.¡±


    Something about the logic behind that bothers me. ¡°Do you have anything else I can call you if not Nineteen?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just Seedling now.¡± He says, tight lipped.


    ¡°Well, you¡¯ve still got perfectly good eyes. Walk me through what you see in this map.¡± I gesture to the map that Snapdragon has just finished unrolling onto the table.


    Nineteen, I¡¯m not interested in diminishing his worth by calling him Seedling, looks at Snapdragon for a moment before turning back to me. ¡°I recognize these cave systems. Third marked them in our excursions. The Blighted ones must know we can¡¯t fight effectively in those conditions. Whenever an engagement goes poorly for them, they retreat back to them at night knowing we dare not venture within.¡±


    Unsatisfied with his explanation, I content myself with using it as a baseline for future questions. Instead I prompt him to continue with a topic change I expect him to be more familiar with. ¡°Give me your measure of the Thorns and Howlers.¡± I say, in part to give me time to look over the map.


    No names.


    Mentions of medicinal herbs and noteworthy hazards make up the most abundant markings.


    Why is everything measured in throws? I can only assume spear throws.


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    My annoyance at the indicated unit of measurement must show.


    Nineteen again take the time to look awkwardly at Snapdragon before giving his assessment. ¡°I would rate us¡­ The Thorns at least, as proficient at best. They are well drilled and motivated, but we¡¯re just people with sharpened senses and weapons that allow us to safely skirmish.¡±


    ¡°And the Howlers?¡± I prompt.


    Nineteen gives us his best impression of Second¡¯s contempt. ¡°They¡¯re more zealous. It is the kind of thing that will distinguish them early or get them all killed.¡±


    Well, he¡¯s right about one thing.


    I would not underestimate how willing at least one of the Howlers is to throw her life away in a fight she cannot win. A part of me hopes she has a Lenore or Astraea to ground her among her sisters.


    Still, I¡¯ve arrived at a frustrating conclusion. ¡°You really are just Watchers, aren¡¯t you? You get regular battles in, but with moon-touched animals, not enemies of Lunaria or Vylia.¡± I regret the direction I take this conversation almost immediately.


    Cerya stiffens at my words. It comes as a relief that I seem to have Nineteen''s attention.


    I¡¯m still absorbing her desire to protect these things. Calling them Cinder Blights tastes as wrong in my mouth as calling Lenore a parasite.


    But the answer Nineteen gives is worth it. ¡°The Howlers have participated as an auxiliary skirmishing force in the last campaign.¡±


    Snapdragon is quick to supply her side of things. ¡°Thorns got stuck with extended wall duty.¡±


    Still. It is frustrating knowing that I am not working with regulars of any kind. It means I won''t be able to rely on them as much as I would like.


    Astraea clears her throat. ¡°Wars are rarely fought with an abundance of truly experienced combatants. Even when ships are not involved, a lot of large scale conflict tends to boil down to logistics of managing a lot of people and leveraging advantages.¡±


    Reductive, but I don¡¯t exactly have experience I can leverage to contest her point. ¡°Bolt throwers and spears.¡±


    ¡°Javelins, usually.¡± Nineteen says, interrupting. ¡°Sorry.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not familiar with the distinction.¡± I say, admitting while welcoming him to continuing.


    ¡°They¡¯re lighter. Meant for throwing.¡± Snapdragon offers.


    ¡°She has the right of it.¡± Nineteen confirms. ¡°Javelins have the option of poisoning the tips for causing targets that are likely to flee to be worn down or succumb to attrition."


    Good to know. I always need to be wary of poisons with how much I rely on my blood.


    Nineteen continues his explanation. "Bolt Throwers are clumsy, but they allow us to engage larger or tougher targets than we could otherwise engage.¡±


    Right. Of course.


    If anything, the closest comparison I can make are to village militias that are permitted to form in more dangerous Vylian territories. My siblings would have me believe that the risk of easily stamped out rebellions is usually worth the reprieve of having to allocate their own forces.


    Fia interrupts my musings to hand me something to drink with visible petals and what look like seeds giving the brew a fragrant scent.


    I welcome the distraction, quickly finding that the taste is bittersweet.


    I follow Fia with my gaze as she serves Cerya something orange with what appears to be floating shavings of ice. Before I can ask the purpose of the ice, she quickly contents herself with pressing her hands against the cool exterior of the glass.


    Her audible contented sigh is all I need to hear.


    I turn my gaze to Astraea. ¡°It sounds to me that what few Watchers I will be able to rely upon will be acting largely in a supportive role. Are you comfortable with you and I drawing the attention of the bulk of what comes?¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have it any other way.¡± Astraea says, her voice confident and unworried. ¡°Unfortunately, I had an opportunity to inspect the walls while they were being repaired. They are not made in a way that allows much room for us to fight in close quarters.¡±


    Immediately I find myself clenching my fists.


    That would be a glaringly obvious flaw in how I intended to handle as much of this that I could by myself.


    I already agreed to not let a single creature through.


    How much did Mel''Viora know about how this kind of scenario is less than ideal for me?


    ¡°Allow me to walk you through it.¡± Snapdragon gestures to lines that mark the walls at regular intervals on the map. ¡°Once the moon rises, we operate largely by using a system of slits with adjustable openings that allow us to angle shots without risking exposure to the moon.¡±


    ¡°How big are these slits?¡± I ask.


    Nineteen gives me a rough visual of the dimensions with his hand and prosthetic. I frown, realizing I can''t even count on being able to reach out and take swipes at anything with any real force behind the blow.


    I could probably throw Javelins, but I¡¯d need time to practice with a Bolt Thrower. That can¡¯t come at the expense of resting and recovering that I am overdue for.


    And if I don¡¯t give myself a break, something is going to give. I can¡¯t allow that.


    It is not until I look up that I find Astraea unbothered by anything that has been brought up. Her words speak of an easy and dutiful confidence. ¡°Say the word and I¡¯ll remain outside the wall until the moon falls. You¡¯ll need to subdue me afterwards, but I trust you¡¯ll think of something.¡±


    Little side conversations about food and drink come to a halt.


    ¡°Astraea. Absolutely not.¡± I reply, voice hard in an attempt to drown out the disbelief expressed by Snapdragon and Nineteen. ¡°If we¡¯re locking anyone outside, it¡¯s me. I can feed and recover mid-fight.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t.¡± Cerya¡¯s voice is quiet.


    We all turn to face her.


    I reply with a frustrated sigh. ¡°I¡¯m not content with letting her take on all the risk.¡±


    Cerya furrows her brow. ¡°No. I mean you physically can¡¯t. Cinder Blight corpses are dead. There¡¯s no guarantee you¡¯ll be able to feed on them.¡±


    That demands a reassessment on my part. Baiting my siblings out to hunt them is growing in risk. But not just for me.


    Meanwhile everyone else around me looks convinced.


    ¡°Besides.¡± Cerya shrinks away from all the attention, her voice falling to a barely audible whisper. ¡°You¡¯re the only one here with an idea of what everyone can bring to the table. If something happens to you¡­¡± There is a pause that Cerya tries to push through. ¡°Our ability to coordinate will drastically decrease.¡±


    ¡°The Seed Seer is right.¡± Amari chimes in with what I know to be approval in her expression. ¡°Allow your protectors to bear the brunt of risk. Lady Wyrmsbane is more than capable of defending herself. The two of you seduced by the moon into fighting each other would be a terrible waste.¡±


    Snapdragon offers me a sympathetic look. ¡°It might actually be best if you stay on standby to venture outside the wall only if Astraea is in trouble.¡±


    A number of audible disagreements are silenced by Snapdragon slamming a fist down onto the table. Fia¡¯s whine is the main one I make a mental note of.


    ¡°Think about it!¡± Snapdragon continues. ¡°Astraea can cover herself in armor you can¡¯t bite through. If she grows weary after a number of hours, you can throw on a cloak and hope you can subdue or save her before the Moon takes you.¡±


    I shake my head, growling in irritation at being made to save my own protector when I should be fighting alongside her. ¡°You¡¯re probably right, but only if things go that badly.¡± I attempt to dismiss my frustrations with a sigh. ¡°But I can¡¯t think of anything better. Astraea, the field is yours. Snapdragon, Nineteen, make sure I¡¯m well supplied with spears.¡±


    Snapdragon tightens her lips at my choice of name.


    Luckily, Nineteen seems oblivious to my slip. His concern seems to be focused on the order I just gave.


    ¡°Just the Javelins or¡­¡± Nineteen attempts to clarify.


    ¡°The Thorns carried longer spears when I first arrived. Bring both. I might need the extra weight if I need to hurt something that meaningfully threatens Astraea.¡± I crack a wide fanged smile. ¡°Besides. I¡¯m stronger than you.¡±


    Nineteen holds up his hand in a placating gesture. ¡°I¡¯m not willing to contest that long enough to find out. You¡¯ll get your spears and javelins.¡±


    This time I turn to Snapdragon. ¡°Which brings me to my next point. What are my options for just driving the Cinder Blights off?¡±


    Snapdragon confirms what I expect. ¡°The same measures everyone else uses.¡±


    Fia raises her hand.


    ¡°You can speak freely here.¡± I say, giving her the go ahead.


    Fia offers us all a bow in thanks for being given permission to speak. ¡°I just wanted to admit that I don¡¯t get allowed out of the castle much. What measures do people use for warding off moon-touched when they can¡¯t hide their sleeping place?¡±


    Snapdragon blinks away surprise at what in her eyes must be the most basic of questions. She tenses up, before forcing herself to take a deep breath. ¡°Thank you for asking, Snapdragon.¡± She pushes through before Fia can express confusion at the choice of name.


    Thankfully, being in constant danger of reprisals in Vylian courts has demanded my dolls and I learn how to communicate a need to play along when needed. I touch my hair to draw Fia¡¯s attention, brushing it over my shoulder to signal dismissing the cause for confusion.


    Fia only spares me a sidelong glance before making her nod of understanding something that has Snapdragon¡¯s undivided attention.


    It takes Snapdragon a moment, but she manages to gather herself enough to launch into an explanation. ¡°As you might imagine with how prevalent the moon rising every night is. Most people and animals have developed deep seated fear responses at seeing the moon so much as be depicted. This is often reliable enough to temporarily drown out most of the subtle bloodlust the moon tries to inspire. The most prevalent methods people rely upon is to reflect the moon at any approaching dangers through the use of mirrors or standing water.¡±


    Fia nods her understanding, once again bowing to signal her departure from the conversation. ¡°Many thanks kind Watcher lady!¡±


    Snapdragon smiles. ¡°Happy to help.¡±


    Nineteen looks impatient.


    I gesture for him to speak.


    ¡°But we¡¯re trying to quell their numbers, not drive them off and encourage them to spread!¡± He says, expressing dissent.


    ¡°I am aware.¡± I say. ¡°Get me a supply of mirrors if you do not keep them on hand at the walls already.¡±


    ¡°It will be done.¡± Snapdragon says with a pleased smile.


    Nineteen shifts uncomfortably. It is not until they ball their hands into fists that I decide it is worth addressing his concerns.


    ¡°Nineteen.¡± I say, again using his old number as a Thorn. ¡°Cinder Blights have the advantage of rapidly replenishing their losses through further infections. Compared to the time it takes for Lunarians to sprout from the ground, craft weapons, train, and approach combat readiness, I am going to forever be at a number disadvantage. As such, minimizing casualties must be my primary concern.¡±


    Nineteen goes rigid for longer than I am comfortable. But before I can elaborate further, he nods along like a good little Seedling.


    I dial back the aggressiveness of my tone. I want to frame what comes next in a way that he will accept. ¡°If you can be my eyes and ears while holding a spear, even at a reduced effectiveness you remain a valuable asset in my eyes. Besides, you¡¯re already trained to fight alongside your fellow Thorns and it will be they who are supporting me tonight. I¡¯m not calling you Seedling. Not if numbers are what you are drilled to use.¡±


    That Nineteen has relaxed and almost looks grateful tells me that I¡¯ve read them well enough.


    I don¡¯t even need to acknowledge the look of approval that Amari gives me.


    ¡°Actually.¡± Nineteen turns to address Snapdragon. ¡°You might want to get started on this now. The mirrors were moved into storage recently at the Howling Watchers¡¯ request.


    ¡°If you¡¯ll excuse us.¡± Snapdragon says, accepting my permissive gesture. She waves Nineteen to the door while stopping to offer Fia a more explicit invitation. ¡°Do you mind helping him and I with the spears and mirrors?¡±


    Right. This whole matter of hiding Snapdragon¡¯s name is getting Fia roped into this.


    I give Fia an appreciative smile when she turns to me for guidance.


    Fia takes my approval and makes this simple task a calling of hers. ¡°If it is to ensure my master is not wanting for spears with which to skewer their prey, I will volunteer to find the pointiest!¡±


    It is long after the door has closed behind us that Amari deems it safe to approach my side. ¡°I hope you are not intending to drive the Cinder Blights in the direction of the arriving carriage.¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t matter. Not with as few as two of my siblings on that carriage. No, there¡¯s nothing I can do to stop them from arriving. I just suspect that it would do well to have the favor of a group of Watchers who think I have their survival in mind.¡±


    I know I¡¯ve struggled with how I felt about them initially. But showing that I care where it counts will be a point in my favor when my siblings more nakedly make threats and offers at the Watchers¡¯ expense.


    ¡°You have something else in mind.¡± Amari says, a smile spreading as she muses on my thoughts.


    ¡°These caves.¡± I point to them before looking up at Cerya. My voice falls to a whisper, just in case. ¡°Nineteen said they retreated to them on account of the environment favoring them. Is there any chance that the Cinders might call one in particular home? Failing that, were any gemstones initially unearthed in any of these cave systems?¡±


    I get another one of those sad smiles from Cerya.


    She only nods.


    ¡°Okay.¡± I back away from the table. ¡°That¡¯s all I need to know for now.¡± Side eyeing Amari, I show her a wicked grin. ¡°There is a Vylian tradition of making a competition of hunting dangerous creatures.¡±


    The eyes of Fia and Amari alight with interest.


    Astraea on the other hand crosses her arms.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never participated in anything like this.¡± I say in admission. ¡°And I don¡¯t know what my siblings have in store. But if they want me alone, I want you all to prepare yourselves for me agreeing to this if not outright floating the idea myself.¡±


    Astraea¡¯s voice is cold and emotionless. ¡°No. Absolutely not.¡±


    ¡°It would be my favored environment.¡± I offer.


    ¡°No. If anything your siblings would be more experienced.¡± At least Astraea spells it out for everyone. ¡°This is too dangerous.¡±


    It¡¯s my turn to drain the emotion from my voice. I need to make it clear that I am deadly serious about this. ¡°Not if I can use the Watchers impress upon the Cinder Blights that I know where they live and I am going straight for the throat. The Watchers and Cinder Blights have just been skirmishing lately, right?¡±


    Cerya gives me a wiggle of the hand that signals not entirely agreeing. ¡°Snapdragon could probably give you details, but you are more or less correct. We have been mostly threatening each other¡¯s supplies. Driving off animals that they can use while they cut off any trade we try to do with local groves. And of course, you already know about the Moon Wrought Implement shipments.¡±


    ¡°Still, I appreciate the added insight.¡± I say, offering Cerya as appreciative of a smile as I offered Fia.¡±


    That the Cinder Blights have in their possession Moon Wrought implements and stones certainly complicates things, both for tonight and any future encounter that follows. I¡¯m not entirely sure if the corpses they puppet can use the implements, but just embedding Moon Wrought gemstones into a corpse will make them dangerous.


    I have to assume they can use them to devastating effect. The attacks on the shipments have been too regular.


    ¡°Speaking of which.¡± Cerya offers me my gemstones back. She even has the bundle of implements and a half filled tourmaline that Snapdragon must have made time to restore to the best of her ability. ¡°The Tourmaline cannot be filled until its crack is repaired. But it remains safe to use. It is my hope that these will allow you to prevail where your strength might otherwise fail you.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± I say, accepting the weight of the three stones as the emotions contained within fall into my possession. ¡°For all you have done and all that you have given me.¡±


    A flicker of mischief twists at Cerya¡¯s smile. ¡°Of course. I would do it again and more. For you, my Princess.¡±


    Right, Cerya overheard.


    I find that my cheeks grow warm when it is her saying it.


    ¡°Is it alright if I call you that?¡± Cerya says, not taking my reaction for permission.


    ¡°It is¡­ Much preferred, actually.¡± I say in confirmation.


    Even if Amari has given me reason to doubt the gemstones given to me by my Seed Seers, it is hard to let it show. Amari has given me reason to reexamine who I am and what I want.


    ¡°Princess Ayre, Would you like to accompany me upstairs?¡± Cerya offers me her hand.


    I take it willingly. ¡°I¡¯m starting to suspect that I would follow you anywhere, Seer Cerya.¡± Something tells me that it is not weariness from our feeding that causes her to lean against my arm as we walk.


    She does however turn to the rest of my gathering of girls. ¡°If you could all be so kind as to give us some time alone, I would appreciate it. I need to make sure that Ayre¡­¡±


    For a moment, I swear that I catch Cerya nibbling at her lip.


    ¡°...Gets the rest that they need.¡± She finishes.

 Chapter 16 – What No Mirror can Reveal

    Ayre


    That Amari and Astraea seem willing to leave without the need for some verbal or physical cue from me comes as a relief. Especially now, knowing what I do of Cerya¡¯s past, I don¡¯t want her to feel like she is without power to influence the ones I have brought into her home.


    Amari informs me of her intentions to do a favor for Snapdragon. I assure her that sounds harmless enough.


    For her part, Astraea expresses a wish to take the map with her. As the one who is most in danger, I encourage her to take all the time she needs.


    When everyone else has left the room, Cerya allows herself to wilt in her chair.


    It seems I alone get to see her vulnerable.


    Knowing that we are well within Amari¡¯s hearing until she exits the structure, I take my time striding to Cerya¡¯s side.


    I start by offering her my hand, silently willing her to understand that she will be supported in whatever she might need.


    My Seed Seer stares at my hand with disinterest, blinks, and wills herself to meet my gaze with all the energy of someone who has not slept in days. ¡°Sorry for dismissing everyone. I just¡­¡± Cerya does not finish her thought.


    Instead she takes my hand and I extend the other to help her to her feet. ¡°It gets easier.¡± I say, with intent to elaborate.


    Cerya slowly begins to shake her head. ¡°No. It¡¯s not that. Resonance work suits me. You taking as little as you do is comparable.¡± She gestures wide to the space around the table. ¡°It is all of this that I am struggling to handle. Had I known you were going to hold a strategy meeting, I wouldn¡¯t have let you feed on me.¡±


    It was more of a tactical planning session, but I know better than to correct someone who I have so recently fed upon.


    Cerya isn¡¯t at her best.


    And if I were being honest with myself, neither am I. But thanks to her, I can better grasp what is most important.


    Feeding on Cerya has brought me an awareness of the corpses Lunarians have piled high all around me. I just lacked the context to understand what I was seeing or why it might be important, to the Lunarians and Vylians both.


    I only thought it worthy of noting the function of the blue topaz Theriya used to light a dark room, or the emerald the Second Thorn used to disintegrate javelins. That the watchers had prominent gemstones worked into their masks seemed self-evident. If it is they who watch the walls at night, surely they would need the enhanced ability to sense potential threats.


    But now I know what those threats are.


    Everything has always been at the expense of the Cinder Blights. Even Vylia¡¯s own might is enhanced by the crafted gemstones filled with unnecessary emotions.


    Each gemstone I have seen adorning the Lunarians, from the deep amber eyes of Mel¡¯Viora to the two pieces of cloudy rose quartz hanging from Cerya¡¯s ears, is a weapon or tool shaped from the corpse of a Cinder Blight.


    A look of guilt accompanies the removal of Cerya¡¯s rose quartz earrings. This time Cerya doesn¡¯t muster up the energy to meet my eyes.


    ¡°Don¡¯t apologize.¡± I say. ¡°They sent a monster and my trained wyrm slayer to address your failures, remember?¡± For all I know, there might be an expectation that I feed on her and keep her compliantly subdued.


    My framing teases out a smile from Cerya. Something about the look strikes me helpless. When she speaks, her voice is delicate. ¡°You¡¯re right, of course.¡±


    ¡°I probably shouldn¡¯t have fed on you.¡± I say, attempting to express regret.


    But Cerya grimaces. ¡°No. You brought me closure and pulled away the moment you understood what I needed you to. That¡¯s¡­ Well, I¡¯m not sure what it will mean in the long term. But for right now, you are continuing to prove worthy of my favor and trust.¡±


    I accept what I am given, wondering how else I can be delicate with her. ¡°There¡¯s no going back. But now that I¡¯m here and understand, has it really gone all that poorly for us so far?¡±


    Cerya gives me a tired look. ¡°Remind me again how many times you have been threatened or attacked since you¡¯ve arrived.¡±


    I open my mouth, but find no words.


    Instead I am treated to a satisfied smile gracing Cerya¡¯s lips. ¡°I won¡¯t begrudge the points you have made. You have your own history that I scarcely imagine.¡± Cerya pauses to squeeze my hand gently in hers. ¡°But, we should probably be focusing on making time for rest and affirmations that are long overdue.¡±


    I hold her hand tenderly in my own. In this moment, I wonder how willing I will be to lay claim to this body when I convince myself to face it in the mirror. ¡°Of course.¡± I finally say, deciding that I do not wish to run from this.


    ¡°I have two requests.¡± Cerya says, the gentleness of her voice drawing my gaze.


    ¡°You need but name them.¡± I declare.


    Cerya gestures to where the food is stored. ¡°On the wall by the door should be a number of roots hanging from a shelf. My first request is that you fill one of the cups on that shelf with water, a root, and carry it up with you.¡±


    ¡°Is this for Theriya?¡± I ask, already on my way to carry out her bidding.


    She nods in my direction before looking herself over with a hand mirror. ¡°There¡¯s been movement upstairs. Normally she would be awake by now, but I imagine she is currently prioritizing Selescia over her own wellbeing.¡± As Cerya turns towards the stairs, she begins to even out how much hair is bound up between bands until both lengths are divided at regular intervals. ¡°Whenever you expose yourself to an abundance of resonance, you need to set aside time to touch base with yourself. It need not always be right away. You and Theriya can always put it off, but it is worth at least monitoring your changes.¡±


    I try hard to not think about my chest beginning to show signs of no longer being mine but taking on features more from Lenore, Fia, or Selescia.


    Belatedly she adds, ¡°If desired, Theriya and I could help you be more intentional with your bodily changes. If you are going to be regularly resonating with something intensely enough to crack a gemstone, you¡¯re going to change a lot whether you like it or not.¡±


    Regret freezes me in place for a moment. So much has happened. It is easy to forget that my instructions for the day were to fill these stones to capacity.


    But can I really turn these unpleasant thoughts and unasked for changes into something intentional?


    Immediately I think of Astraea, and wonder what she would have to say on the subject.


    I follow through with the instructions given to me before looking down at the arrangement of roots, cup, and tap so clearly set by the door. It is all so neatly arranged that I can¡¯t help but see the intention in it that Cerya would. ¡°This is part of Theriya¡¯s routine, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    Cerya has lowered herself to sit on the stairs leading up while she waits. Her reply is delayed by a brief little yawn. ¡°You have the right of it. Theriya always grounds herself for the day to come with some bitter tea in our library.¡±


    I close the distance between us, tea in hand. ¡°Before I get to your second request, would you mind if I asked about your morning routine as well?¡± How would her day have changed if she were not immediately called away to help me fill gemstones and assist with the wounded?


    ¡°Of course.¡± Cerya leans back into the stairs, staring up their winding ascension. ¡°I am not what most would call an early riser. I like to linger in my flower for as long as I can get away with. But once I am up and about, I usually crave something sweet to motivate me to confront the unpleasantness of the approaching day.¡±


    ¡°Duly noted.¡± I say, once again offering her a hand to help her onto her feet. I will likely have further questions about what sweet foods and drinks are on offer, but that can wait until another morning. ¡°I do believe you had a second request for me?¡±


    There is a moment of hesitation. Cerya even goes so far to avert her gaze. ¡°I would like to request some time out of your day to care for me like you do your dolls.¡±


    I pause on the step ahead of her. ¡°Why frame it like that?¡±


    Cerya looks longingly at the bitter tea in my hands. ¡°Is it so wrong for a girl to ask her betrothed to show me the same care that you would for the others you have loved?¡±


    I give her an unimpressed look. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be, if that is what you wanted. But let¡¯s assume for the moment that it is.¡± I set aside fresh insights into how she thinks and acts in order to fulfill her request.


    This starts by softening my voice. ¡°I would start by being plain with you about the uncompromising truth of everything I share with them.¡± It is something I only feel comfortable doing because they are more a prisoner of their circumstances than I. This provokes a deep sigh over what I have yet to admit. ¡°Fia and Selescia¡­ They are privy to my every moment of doubt and hesitation. I would not insult you by attempting to lie about this. An important part of my connection with my dolls is that I make myself as vulnerable to them as I can.¡±


    Cerya rises to the step alongside me, lingering long enough to lean against me. ¡°I can see why this isn¡¯t easy for you to talk about.¡±


    I nod before continuing. ¡°One of the earliest compromises I made, at Selescia¡¯s request, was to include her in every detail of what is happening at court. This next part is important. They deserve the best possible chance at escaping the life Vylia would demand of them, with or without me.¡±


    I get a sad smile in return. ¡°Thank you, for sharing that. If it helps, what I wanted most was to know how to take care of them if something were to happen to you.¡± She reaches out to gently take my hand in hers.


    ¡°I appreciate that.¡± I say, stopping shy of adding anything further. Cerya knows all too well the kind of effect that feeding without care for another¡¯s expense can have. ¡°Very well. As soon as I deliver this tea to Theriya, you and Selescia will have my undivided attention.¡± I keep my voice warm and gentle as I guide my Seer up the winding staircase.


    Can I really admit that anything about this arrangement is all that unexpected?


    If anything, I am more caught off guard by how quickly the number of people I feel I must protect has grown.


    Astraea and I are going to have words tonight. Hopefully we can find the time before the moon drives threats to the gates of the grove.


    I might loathe how it feels like there is never enough time, but I can seize what time I have been given.


    Now is the time to make the most of these moments of quiet.


    Maybe someone can quiet my growing sense of dread that came from feeding upon Cerya.


    ***


    This is wrong.


    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    I take it all back.


    I don¡¯t deserve this.


    I don¡¯t want to be treated like Lenore.


    I can¡¯t.


    I would be willing to subject myself to anything but this.


    ¡°Ayre!¡± Cerya snaps. ¡°Would you please sit still, for me?¡±


    Her fingers pry free yet another clump of dried blood from my hair, leaving me contemplating the quickest way to escape the room.


    Selescia frets at me from the side opposite of Cerya. ¡°How did you get so much blood in your hair?¡±


    It takes a deep breath to still my thoughts and remind myself that both of my companions have recently been fed upon.


    I should be making this easy for them, not harder.


    But to answer the question at hand, I need to think back. How do I frame this?


    ¡°I¡­ hugged myself.¡± I say.


    ¡°With arms and hands covered in blood?¡± Selescia asks in disbelief.


    Cerya¡¯s hands come to a stop. ¡°Oh. Should I¡­ excuse myself for this conversation?¡±


    Cerya was much easier to tell.


    Selescia, on the other hand, is far more emotionally invested in the details of this particular question¡¯s answer.


    ¡°It was my blood.¡± I hear myself say, before deciding to just let it all out. ¡°I felt it tug at my hands, guiding them into place.¡±


    Selescia looks between the two of us, not sure what to make of my words.


    I continue. ¡°Before I knew it, I felt the back of her hand on my cheek. It drifted lower, and, well, you know how Lenore was. I was¡­ being comforted.¡±


    I reach out to Selescia, offering her the specific touch of comfort that has long been denied to her.


    Lenore¡¯s doll looks down, leaning into our hand in the process.


    It takes a few moments.


    Cerya and I exchange uncertain glances.


    But then Selescia begins to wash the last of the blood from my hair with vigor.


    ¡°You would not lie to me without good reason.¡± Selescia finally says aloud, her eyes narrow in thought.


    The exact frame of words combined with feeding upon Cerya demands an upwards quirk of the corner of my lips.


    Selescia only begins to scrutinize me more intensely.


    And then, she mouths the name under her breath.


    Lenore.


    It is enough to cause her to visibly shudder. She grips tightly at the clots of blood and hair in her hands before letting them fall to the side.


    ¡°We¡¯re here.¡± I say. ¡°I don¡¯t know if I can explain it. But you know her better than I did. Spill my blood if you think it will help you find proof that she is not just my wretch of a parasite, but something more than memory.¡±


    Selesia¡¯s voice tightens as she makes a visible effort to squeeze out a verbal reply. ¡°Tell me everything. Spare me no detail.¡±


    I oblige her demand. ¡°We should get more comfortable then.¡±


    Taking Selescia and Cerya by the hand, I arrange everyone in bed petals. Selescia claims the one sitting opposite from me, while Cerya seems content to share a petal.


    It takes time.


    I find myself having to interrogate my memories of the day¡¯s events and how I feel about them. Having Cerya and Selescia nearby makes it easier. And I can¡¯t help but come to see my actions as reckless. If something were to happen to me, it would be at the expense of far too many people for me to be comfortable with.


    By the time I am done, Selescia has taken a more active role in interrogating me for details. She makes time to retrieve her knife and draw my blood.


    What follows is an elaborate and emotional coaxing out of muscle memories and movements that are so very clearly more Lenore¡¯s than mine.


    We are struck by how clear it is to Selescia that there are moments when our hands are more Lenore¡¯s than mine.


    Our doll nearly chokes on her words as she moves from her bed petal to ours. She presses her head against our bandaged chest, laying claim to us by denying any opportunity to escape having two girls now clinging tightly to us.


    When Selescia finally renders her conclusion, her calculated demeanor gives way to something frustrated and emotional. ¡°I don¡¯t know what would be more cruel. Either you are right and you have been attempting to recklessly figure yourself out in all the most ill-advised ways. Or, and I really must emphasize this, you have allowed yourself to become misguided by the very wretch that took Lenore from us.¡±


    Curious, that she lays the blame on the parasite, and not our Twelfth sibling.


    ¡°What would be the difference?¡± We ask, willing ourselves to not recognize our hands.


    Selescia¡¯s expression sours.


    We shake our head, centering Ayre¡¯s doubts. ¡°Maybe the two of us are just wretched enough to convince you all that we care.¡±


    Selesica waves her knife at us with a grin. ¡°Now that¡¯s just Ayre talking. And you¡¯re only hard on yourself because you care. What would be the point? You could have replaced us at any point. And yet you recklessly endangered yourself to claim a position of great enough standing to justify a second blood doll.¡± Her grin fades as she draws her ear to our chest, her expression steadily softening with each beat. ¡°There is no reason in my mind that a monster wearing Ayre and Lenore¡¯s memories would go through all the trouble.¡±


    We sigh. ¡°We adore how quickly you came to that conclusion. We weren¡¯t sure if you would accept this, even if this is closer to the truth of things.¡±


    This gets a pleased smile out of Selescia. ¡°Lenore, stop sweet talking me. You know I¡±m not Fia. I can handle this without needing to dissect you.¡±


    Any real arguing the point soon gives way to Selesia just squeezing us uncomfortably tight. ¡°I¡¯m going to need time to decide how I feel about all this. And you need to stop getting hurt long enough for me to not worry about losing Lenore a second time.¡±


    It is at that moment that we look down at Cerya, whose head has been resting in our lap for the majority of this conversation.


    Our Seed Seer lets out a breath that we didn¡¯t know she had been holding. ¡°So we¡¯re all in agreement then?¡± Her voice is light, but the delivery is conspiratorial.


    ¡°About what?¡± We ask.


    ¡°To call you Princess.¡± Cerya lets the words fall from her mouth.


    Observing that I do not immediately recoil from her embrace or being called Princess, Selescia follows Cerya¡¯s words to their natural conclusion. ¡°I don¡¯t know if I can call you my Lenore anytime soon, but it would mean a lot to me if I could call you mistress until then.¡±


    This provokes such a strange array of responses in us.


    Guilt attempts to reign in the warmth threatening to overtake us.


    Doubt tugs at recognition.


    And when we stop to interrogate these feelings, we are struck by confusion as we follow them to the different sources tnat we expect.


    Repeating the thoughts and words that have been said aloud in our mind so clearly gets different responses.


    Ayre¡¯s guilt is well established. But the recognition of being Selescia¡¯s Mistress feels like a long overdue relief. Allowing ourselves to deepen our relationship with Selescia only feels right now that we¡¯ve whisked her away from living in a Vylian castle.


    After being separated for so long, it is little wonder that Lenore would feel warmth at being reunited with Selescia. But the doubts that cause us to hesitate over every opportunity to grow¡­ Are very firmly hers.


    When the connection between us snaps, I can¡¯t help but see it as an intentional division.


    The doubts and warmth fade from my mind, and I am left to question what I have done wrong.


    How much of the doubt I have been drowning in all this time has been mine?


    When I draw upon Lenore, and feed her my blood, what is the full extent of the relationship between who is affecting who? What does she experience when we are not linked?


    Is she always here? Or is she confined to somewhere dark and isolated from the sensations that we experience, seated alone atop my heart?


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± I finally say. And I worry about making decisions at Lenore¡¯s expense.


    That I mean what I say appears to be well understood by the expressions of my partners. They both hesitate, willing to break off our physical contact in order to give me space.


    And then Cerya¡¯s ears twitch.


    It¡¯s not long before I hear the approaching footsteps, as soft as they are.


    ¡°This can¡¯t matter.¡± I say with decisive firmness. ¡°No matter what either of us want, I¡¯m going to have to be the Prince that my siblings expect of me. At least for now.¡±


    All of this is of course undermined by Amari entering the room with what appears to be an unusually long piece of red fabric bundled in her arms.


    Of all the things she could be interrupting us with¡­


    It had to be a dress, didn¡¯t it?


    Amari even has the good grace to freeze in place. ¡°Oh. And here I thought I timed this perfectly.¡± She says, ending her words with a pout.


    I¡­


    I want to harden my expression.


    To be upset.


    But she¡¯s doing something for me, isn¡¯t she?


    A favor for Snapdragon, even.


    I force myself to wave Amari into the room. ¡°Don¡¯t apologize. Not for overhearing or attempting to present me with a thoughtfully timed gesture. It¡¯s appreciated, really.¡± But no amount of willing myself to be appreciative can stop my mouth from tightening into a firm line that just can¡¯t hold a smile.


    The vulpine advisor of mine doesn¡¯t buy it. And why should she? My immediate response to her arrival was to squirm from Selescia¡¯s embrace and utter words that caused Cerya to create distance from resting her head on my lap.


    Amari¡¯s vulpine snout falls ever so slightly. ¡°No. It¡¯s fine. I¡¯m clearly intruding and I know when I am unwelcome.¡± Something about her words read as more true and genuine than I expect from Amari.


    I can¡¯t help but feel like I need to interrogate our relationship.


    Between the acting on behalf of one of my siblings, the delight she has taken in being an annoying taste of the adjustment period I am still going through in adapting to interacting with Lunarians, I¡¯m not sure where exactly I earned her investment.


    How genuinely did she interpret our shared deceit in front of the Watchers?


    What motivated her to run away from the fighting that followed?


    It occurs to me then that Selescia and Cerya only saw the aftermath of my being stabbed in the heart.


    Amari had to witness it.


    Feeling like I have made some grave misjudgement, I calm my own doubts over how well I will be able to handle this conversation.


    I point to the mirror. ¡°Go ahead and hang it over there.¡±


    Amari does so in silence.


    But before she can leave, I muster up what apology I can. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to make you feel unwelcome. I might be struggling with making sense of the revelations you¡¯ve led me to. But none of that is an excuse to lash out at you.¡±


    Amari says nothing, but something causes her to linger in the doorway. She¡¯s faced away from us all now, but will likely still hear anything I say long after she leaves the room.


    And yet she lingers.


    So I take a deep breath.


    It takes effort to resist attempting to add Lenore¡¯s senses to my own. But she¡¯s already pulled away from me today.


    This is something I should handle on my own.


    I rise to my feet, and begin striding not towards Amari but the dress now dangling from the mirror.


    ¡°I won¡¯t ask for your forgiveness. But before I leave to deal with the Full Moon with Astraea in tow, I planned to revisit your offer to sell me something more fitting to wear for meeting my future bound.¡± My words ring in my ear like a good start. I am proving that I have been listening and considering her words.


    Out of the corner of my eye, I swear Amari¡¯s tail begins to twitch before being held in place. An involuntary reaction?


    I press on. ¡°What I think I wanted most from you is help making an impression upon my siblings.¡± I narrow my eyes and lower my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. My hands reach out to take the dress in hand.


    I connect all of that to what she has presented to me.


    The fabric is so soft that it strikes me as frivolity. Its design would be considered bold for anyone but a doll to wear at court with so much of my neck, shoulders, and back exposed.


    And yet, it is the kind of gown that I would imagine turning heads at court if I were to wear it.


    To present myself as an openly pretty and vulnerable thing despite the number of siblings I have killed in such a short time, I think I would be hard pressed to make a more bold impression than that.


    And while I could thank Snapdragon for the idea of asking Amari for a favor, there¡¯s this amusing notion I¡¯ve been entertaining in the back of my mind since feeding on Cerya.


    When one entrusts a task to another, the desired ends and means can only do so much to shape the intentions of the one carrying it out. Try as one might to smother out any dissent, there is always the risk of enabling the kind of change in perspectives that can imagine entirely different outcomes arising from the same means and ends.


    Forget the words of what is expected of me. There is a beating heart within me and everyone I have surrounded myself with that finds a willingness to make ourselves vulnerable to each other.


    How had the Second Thorn framed it? We are all courting ruin together?


    ¡°I¡¯m going to deal with the Cinder Blights.¡± I say, holding the dress out between me and the mirror. ¡°I¡¯ll even welcome my siblings with open arms. But I¡¯m going to achieve all of that and more on my own terms, as the Fourteenth Princess Ayre.¡±


    From the right angle?


    With a dress positioned between me and my reflection like a suit of armor against the parts of my body that I cannot stand¡­


    I can almost see a version of myself worthy of admiration.


    I pull the dress away from the mirror and clutch it tight. What I see no longer matters, not when everyone around me so clearly sees what I struggle to.


    My voice trembles as I turn to find Selescia, Cerya, and Amari all giving me their undivided attention. ¡°If you¡¯re all willing,¡± I say, briefly considering how best to back away from admitting what I feel to be true.


    No.


    We¡¯ll see this through to the end.


    ¡°I would like to present myself as a Princess who represents everyone who found worth in me when I thought myself wanting. I don¡¯t want to do any of this alone, not when what comes next could be so much better if I gave you all a say in how we handle things.¡±


    Selescia covers her mouth.


    Cerya¡¯s lips tighten.


    My gaze turns to settle on Amari, who has retrieved something from her pouch.


    It is a bone tooth charm, dangling from a well worn thread.


    As she approaches me, she makes her intent clear. ¡°I¡¯m entrusting the lives of my sisters to you. If things do not go to plan, I want you to show them this so that they will act as if you can be trusted.¡±


    I turn the tooth over in my hands. ¡°What¡¯s so special that you and they would so easily place your trust in me?¡±


    Amari¡¯s tail flicks to the side. And I am treated to one of her predatory smiles. ¡°This is a fang of the great wolf Amari. Of which, my sisters and I all share an equal claim to, in body and name.¡±


    And just like that, I feel the weight of my doubts ease.


    I find it curious that everything that once burdened me can, in this moment, can suddenly be looked back upon as small and insignificant. Somehow, I have convinced myself that my most isolating and vulnerable thoughts that make me difficult or unpleasant to engage with could never be points of connection to others who make it their reason to extend me the benefit of the doubt.


    Snapdragon and I feel suffocated by the roles assigned to us, but even without needing to be told, she managed to grasp that I needed an opportunity to change my presentation in more than words.


    Cerya likely felt comfortable sleeping next to me the moment I showed her how little I drain the blood dolls who are entrusted to me for this purpose. Every little delicate maneuver we have taken to accommodate and comfort each other has led to her entrusting me with her very sense of self.


    And now I find myself faced with the perspective and potential trust of someone who is far more than she appears. What newfound understanding of myself and Lenore will I find upon uniting Amari with others who share her likeness and namesake?


    To be accommodated, comforted, and entrusted with everything that my siblings would squander means more to me now than holding any specific number or privilege that comes with my place in my family hierarchy ever could.


    It is with a newfound depth of understanding myself and where I stand, that I attempt to treasure what time I have left to spend with each and every one of them.


    I have more now to risk and lose than anything I could claim before.


    Under the light of the Full Moon, I will have the opportunity to prove that I can do more than merely protect all that I hold dear.


    One last risk.


    A little recklessness on Cerya¡¯s behalf.


    I would like to extend to the Moon a promise of greater bloodshed in the future.


    All I ask in exchange is an opportunity to show mercy to those who have been denied it for longer than I have been alive.

 Chapter 17 – Bitter Hearts

    Astraea


    As Ayre¡¯s protector, I must look so far beyond the immediate threats. When we take to the field, I will need to know where every restorative herb can be found, what they do, and how long it will take to procure and administer.


    Beyond the night¡¯s defense, I will need to grasp this terrain well enough that the Cinder Blights cannot use it against us. If I¡¯m clever, we might even be able to turn a familiarity with our environment against strangers like Ayre¡¯s siblings.


    I take the time that Ayre grants me and more besides.


    Enough for Amari to venture upwards with a distinctly feminine garment in hand and return wearing what I can only imagine is another of Cerya¡¯s robes.


    The notion that everyone is settling in nicely is a weight off my heart.


    None of it changes the part I must play, but it is enough that even I recognize a need to step out onto an exterior branch for some air. The breeze will do me well to remind myself that I am tasked with ensuring Ayre avoids making the mistake of failing to see the forest for the trees.


    My solitude is interrupted as a nearly imperceptible hand guides my chin towards the horizon.


    Verdant spires of thorns and silvered greenery spread along Vylia¡¯s western flank to form the bloodthirsty expanse of the Lunarian great wood.


    My Goddess makes one final adjustment with the crook of her finger, guiding my gaze at last to what she wishes for me to see.


    Thin wisps of smoke announce the setting of a not too distant camp.


    My best guess? The Castellan¡¯s broodlings are scarcely more than a few hours¡¯ ride away.


    While our enemies rest, Ayre and I will be committed to the night¡¯s watch.


    Every exertion I make now must be one that preserves Ayre for what will come next.


    I had hoped that there would be more time. Time enough at least to better prepare Ayre for what decisions must soon be made.


    I content my Goddess with assurances that permitting Ayre the time needed to rest best serves our purposes. We will need them to be in as close to peak condition as they can get. If for nothing else, than to be in a state of mind where they are willing to listen to reason.


    So much rides upon Ayre proving themselves outside of a Vylian court.


    If given enough power, influence, and time, Ayre could rise to a position of running one of the Castellan¡¯s ten border territories. That Ayre can be so easily convinced to care for their Dolls and everyone they have met since arriving here gives me hope for what they could do in their siblings¡¯ stead.


    But there were moments around the table where I began to suspect Ayre hopes to include the Cinder Blights in ways that run counter to the Castellan and Grove Tender¡¯s shared desire that they be exterminated.


    How gentler could Vylia be if Ayre is entrusted with the day to day running of a part of the Vylian Empire? With the mere act of putting ink to parchment, elevating the text to an Imperial Edict, Ayre can be positioned to save more lives than I could take leveraging all of my Goddess¡¯s divine blessings.


    All it would cost is to demand that Ayre not stay their hand. Not now, not when their position is at its most delicate.


    I wouldn¡¯t ask Ayre to shoulder the blame were I not willing to bloody my hands in their stead.


    The end in my mind is a matter of scale. No amount of personal strength that Ayre or I could add to a rebellion would compare to what Ayre could achieve with their role as a Vylian Princess.


    With each supporter added to Ayre¡¯s court, my Goddess has permitted me a little more room to push for a better outcome.


    With each reason that Ayre gives us to doubt, my Goddess leans on a need to follow through with the letter of her intent more than the heart of it.


    One way or another, Lenore must be hers.


    I just know that Ayre has more than proved worthy of sharing in that redemption.


    But any tangible risk that would see Lenore diminished beyond retrieval is too great for me to not intervene. I cannot ignore that Cerya and Ayre might risk siding with the Cinder Blights too soon.


    To step too far out of line now would demand I intervene on the Goddess¡¯s behalf.


    And Ayre would never forgive me for that.


    But I don¡¯t need their trust to keep them safe.


    Not when the Goddess alone has both the willingness and capacity to undo the harm inflicted upon both Ayre and Lenore.


    Deep breaths.


    My hand shakes against the door that separates a balcony from the inner trunk of the tree spire.


    It takes one last caress from the Goddess¡¯s hand, hers atop mine, to give me the courage to now work against Ayre¡¯s own desires.


    This is to protect them. Whether they want me to or not.


    ***


    I find Ayre asleep amidst a collection of books, the most important one being their journal clutched tightly in their hands. Arms belonging to Selescia and Cerya wrap around my Princess from either side.


    How often have I seen this scene with Fia in Cerya¡¯s place?


    Cerya is the only one to stir as I approach the bundle of limbs and bodies arranged atop the nearest petal.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I¡¯ve come to take Ayre away.¡± I say with an apologetic whisper meant only for the Lunarian Seer¡¯s sensitive ears.


    Cerya¡¯s words barely even register as a whisper.  ¡°Promise me. You¡¯ll bring them back.¡± It is only after the question is asked that I realize her words are delicate ones.


    How long has she been waiting for me to come and take her Princess away?


    ¡°There are no promises where Ayre and I must go.¡± I say, my voice grave.


    The Seed Seer adjusts her position, revealing one of Selescia¡¯s knives in hand.


    ¡°It¡¯s because of me, isn¡¯t it?¡± Her words form a dangerous accusation.


    It is enough to give me pause. Not wishing to underestimate the young Seer, I incline my head. It brings me no joy to give truth to her suspicions. ¡°You were the tipping point, yes.¡±


    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    Cerya takes a breath before interposing herself between me and my charge. ¡°I asked Ayre to promise me that they would not face their siblings alone. I¡­ won¡¯t let you take them without some guarantee.¡±


    I remain unmoved by her threat.


    No amount of knives raised against me would stop what Gods and nations have set into motion. But I elect to humor this girl by disarming her with words. ¡°Only I can make a difference in such a confrontation. All I can offer you is an assurance that you have done all you can.¡±


    That I am still being unfair is writ plainly on the young seer¡¯s face. Cerya¡¯s shoulders slump as my words seem to ring true enough in her ears.


    I am not unsympathetic. But there is no room for the voice of dissent she would lend against my purpose. As a girl caught between the plots of Monsters and Godthings, she would be best served by surviving to aid Ayre in the violence of courtly and imperial functions that will follow tonight¡¯s unpleasantness.


    To her credit, Ayre will be stronger for having known her. Theriya too has lightened the burden by so quickly gleaning what stones the Princess would be most comfortable wielding.


    But their roles in the confrontation must come to an end.


    Cerya lowers the knife. ¡°Why be so cruel?¡±


    I never should have been a lot of things. But cruelty is something I was taught from a young age.


    There is no need to sharpen cruelty¡¯s bite.


    That she cares for Ayre is enough. They will do great things if Ayre can survive long enough to ascend in the Castellan¡¯s favor.


    I decide to relent and give Cerya the satisfaction of seeing that I regret the role I must play. ¡°Because this is how Ayre has been conditioned to accept what unreasonable demands will keep them alive.¡±


    Her shoulders rise and fall helplessly.


    With no more resistance, I still my bitter heart and begin to gently pry Ayre from Cerya and Selescia¡¯s arms.


    ***


    Selescia wakes, proving to only be an obstacle long enough to press every knife in her possession into Ayre¡¯s restless hands.


    That Cerya and Selescia are too drained to accompany us comes as a relief to a freshly awakened Ayre.


    In this I am in agreement. Selescia and Cerya are more equipped for the kind of violence orchestrated at court.


    Fia and Ayre on the other hand are likely to be much more in their element when it comes to combating animals animated by Cinder Blight.


    As for My Goddess and I¡­ Well, we were both monsters once.


    I take it on faith that my divine lover would not lead me astray.


    If I must be cruel, I will do so knowing that I can spare Ayre from further nightmares they might never admit to waking from.


    The smiles and assurances they offer Cerya and Selescia give way to a haunted look and the clawing at their own flesh once they think no one is looking.


    Ayre is parched, but dares not ask for anything more than they need.


    I know what it is like to have my survival being dependent on the harm of others. Where my Goddess¡¯s every touch twisted and corrupted the forms of others in order to maintain herself. I am reminded of the days when I could only be sustained by consuming the flesh of the living. And yet somehow the broodlings that the Castellan sires suffer a far worse fate.


    It is the kind of wrong I would move mountains in order to address.


    Theriya, armed now more confidently with a night of study and reflection, is now all that stands between me and the stairs to the spire¡¯s lowest level.


    Amari lounges off to the side, an arrangement of religious texts arranged in front of her.


    The symbols in the bindings are enough to confirm that they¡¯ve narrowed my Goddess down to an astral pantheon.


    Which is just as well. There are not many who could grant me free reign to so casually shrug off the moon¡¯s bloodlust.


    ¡°I will answer your questions¡± I say, seizing the initiative by setting the terms. ¡°But none of you can be allowed to leave this spire until Ayre returns.¡±


    Amari¡¯s fingers tap casually against the cover of the nearest book. ¡°She¡¯s sure of herself.¡±


    Theriya purses her lips. ¡°Aster wouldn¡¯t care. Lady Midnight would forgive her.¡±


    Ayre¡¯s eyes widen as they grasp the topic at hand.


    I press a finger to the Princess¡¯s lips before addressing the others. ¡°If I am everything you believe, you can trust in me to keep Ayre safe.¡±


    Theriya crosses the four of her arms, revealing four armlets set with gemstones. A mix of heavy blue topazes and red garnets brim with the promise of bitter pains they would subject me to. ¡°You must forgive me if I elect to not take the word of someone who serves a deity in decline.¡±


    Frankly, I like my odds.


    All it would take is a breath of my Goddess to fill my lungs and Theriya could be pushed harmlessly aside.


    But Ayre wouldn¡¯t see it that way, demanding I weigh my options.


    I elect to take a risk by allowing Theriya to define her terms. ¡°What will it take for you to allow Ayre and I alone to pass?¡±


    Theriya offers me a wide smile. ¡°Good girl. Amari, assume she serves Lady Midnight. Make our counter offer with that in mind.¡±


    I grow tense, knowing that I am about to lose important leverage.


    Ayre casts wary glances between the three of us before taking a cautious step away from me.


    Their vulpine escort and now advisor grants the Princess a soft smile. ¡°Sorry you had to wake up to this sweetie.¡±


    Ayre¡¯s cheeks redden as they clear their throat. ¡°It¡¯s okay, I think.¡±


    Amari rises to her feet. She extends a hand in Theriya¡¯s direction as her tail billows behind her. ¡°Theriya has suggested it would sound better if I am the one to assure you that she and Cerya will accept you no matter what happens.¡±


    Theriya weighs in as Ayre turns to give her an uncertain look. ¡°I should probably also apologize for thrusting resonance work on you this morning. I didn¡¯t realize it would put you in as much danger as it did.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡± Ayre replies without any room for doubt. ¡°Cerya made some time to touch base with me on whether or not the stones resisted me. You crafted it in so short a time and yet¡­ No apologies are necessary. Really.¡±


    But it is with hesitation that Ayre turns to me.


    Seeing Ayre take my measure as if they are considering violence is enough to give me pause.


    ¡°Okay!¡± Amari tries to get our attention. ¡°Which brings me to the offer that Theriya wishes to make. She would like to set aside regular days where she or Cerya make themselves available to enable and guide you through making any physical changes to your body that you desire.¡±


    There it is. A loss of leverage.


    It takes Ayre a few moments to reply. When they do speak, it is with a voice that strains against tears and whether or not they deserve such a dedication of time and energy. ¡°I¡­ am touched. But let me at least hear Astraea out, okay?¡±


    See my love? Patience. Ayre and Lenore can still be ours.


    ¡°By all means.¡± Theriya clasps a hand over her heart before turning to me. ¡°That wasn¡¯t so difficult was it?¡± A self satisfied smirk teases across her lips as she steps to the side. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you want with Ayre, Lady Wyrmsbane. But as her sister I should warn you that Cerya will never give Ayre up lightly.¡±


    I can only hope that this proves true in the end, in spite of everything working against them.


    As Ayre and I make for the stairs, Theriya passes Ayre a note.


    Theriya¡¯s antennae flicker as the Seed Seer trades the seriousness of a confrontation for a more animated explanation long overdue. ¡°I think you deserve a written explanation on the specifications of the implements you now wield. Knowing your limits will help you decide when it would be best to leverage the resources I have provided you.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± Ayre says, clutching the note to their chest before rolling it up and sliding it into their belt. ¡°And if you don¡¯t mind, I would prefer to be called Princess instead of Prince-thing.¡±


    Theriya¡¯s antennae bob as she permits herself a laugh. ¡°So I have been informed! Rest assured, whatever changes you desire in form, address, or stonework, you will be accommodated here. Go with our belief in you, Princess.¡±


    I am left to set my jaw as I watch a weight be lifted off of Ayre¡¯s shoulders. That Ayre is less likely to doubt their position here will make the next conversation harder, but manageable.


    By the time Ayre and I are truly alone, twilight has fallen over the grove.


    No matter where we go, the streets are empty. Doors and windows have long since been barred shut.


    Should we fail, blighted beasts will roam the streets of the grove.


    For now, it means that we can speak freely.


    Neither of us does.


    A tension grows between us as I permit Ayre to enjoy the waning moments of ignorance to the choices that must be made.


    About halfway between the central tree spires and the Grove¡¯s outer wall, Ayre comes to a stop.


    I carry on for a few moments, allowing a physical distance to grow until it matches the distance I feel in my heart is between us. Only then do I turn to face the Princess I have sworn my life in service to protecting.


    Ayre and I consider each other for a moment. Both of us have taken the time to don quilted layers of Vylian clothing meant to be worn beneath gemstone armor.


    But neither of us seem ready or willing to reach for the Onyx keystones to conjure the Vylian armor supplied to us. Nor are we yet willing to commit to the necessities of violence that our assigned roles demand of us.


    ¡°We need to talk.¡± I finally say.


    Ayre gives me a weary look. ¡°We do. About everything you¡¯ve told me since arriving here, and more besides. I cannot claim I fully understand why everyone seems to be wary of you all of a sudden.  But I¡¯m willing to hear you out. You¡¯ve earned that much at least.¡±


    It grants me no small measure of relief knowing that I got to be the first to make enough of an impression on Ayre.


    It is enough to almost hope that I can guide them to a better ending than one crafted in response to the Castellan.


    But my smile remains a joyless one. ¡°They¡¯re right about me, unfortunately.¡±


    Ayre reflexively sinks a fang into their lip. With Lenore¡¯s added presence comes a change in posture, rate of breathing, and the subtlest of differences in expression. It is like I am staring at a different person, because I am.


    The divine mantle of Life is capable of so much more than Ayre realizes.


    If Ayre¡¯s parasite were anything less than a mangled piece of a dead deity, Lenore would not still be alive right now.


    I could have given Ayre answers.


    I could have been gentle.


    But now that Ayre¡¯s loved ones have given them other options and assurances, what I offer is a cruelty.


    As far as Ayre is concerned, I am about to ask them to trade one Castellan for another.


    ¡°It¡¯s true.¡± I say. ¡°I serve a waning Goddess of the Night whose only demand is that I pluck Lenore from your chest.¡±

 Chapter 18 - And Broken Trust

    Ayre


    ¡°If you gave her up willingly, I could convince my Goddess to spirit you away from this foul place and everyone who has hurt you.¡± Astraea¡¯s voice is a pleading one.


    But it rings so hollow of anything but resignation in my ears.


    As if there is anything that could make up for what has already been said.


    In spite of all my talk of no longer doing things alone, am I already so willing to discard my Sworn Blade?


    Would I be right to? After this?


    If I were to take her at her word, would she not be acting in service to an existential threat? A goddess, and one attuned to the night no less.


    My lessons in history and the world¡¯s religions in order to serve as a Vylian prince were frankly rushed. Even without a cursory understanding, I would be willing to assume there is a less than stellar relationship between this goddess and the Lunarians based on names alone.


    My focus should remain on Astraea. In regards to this goddess, I¡¯m far more likely to recall the petty cries of the faithful cast into the Castellan¡¯s depths than anything taught to me after being elevated to Prince.


    Astraea has to know that I would never agree to this.


    So why frame it like she has?


    Why lead with a demand I would never agree to?


    I still don¡¯t understand what she would stand to gain. Not when she is so quickly willing to threaten the trust she has earned.


    My voice turns bitter. ¡°Why wait?¡±


    ¡°Because I should know better.¡± Astraea¡¯s reply is accompanied by a growl.


    When has that stopped me?


    Or at least that is how I feel compelled to respond.


    My chest aches as I recall the events of the day.


    Even Astraea showed restraint after I chose to spare the Howling Watchers. It is the kind of realization that makes me almost willing to hear her out.


    But the answer can never be willingness on my part.


    So why am I bothering?


    I feel my fists clench as a willingness to give into my ever present hunger begins to feel like an unbearable weight.


    I¡¯ve been tense since Astraea pulled me from my sleep. The potential for so many different kinds of violence and their varying circumstances are more than enough to put me uneasy.


    But knowing I won¡¯t be able to feed on my enemies and that Astraea is presenting herself as an enemy is just¡­


    ¡°Was any of it true?¡± I say through clenched teeth, so close to spilling my own blood. ¡°What you said in the carriage.¡±


    Astraea¡¯s gaze fixates on my teeth, but she doesn¡¯t hesitate. ¡°Every word.¡±


    And yet Astraea was the one who claimed that this would not fundamentally change who I am. Is she not now going back on those words?  ¡°I can¡¯t let you take her from me.¡±


    Her voice softens. ¡°You know I don¡¯t want to.¡±


    My voice strains as I fight against seeing myself again as a broken and unworthy wretch of a creature that still has everything to prove. ¡°But I haven¡¯t even committed to a plan. Let alone seen it through or made a mistake. No one has gotten hurt! Not yet.¡± Well, taking a javelin to the heart aside. The words that come next are bitter enough to burn my eyes and throat. ¡°And already you would treat me like the oaths you have sworn to me and the confidence you have earned mean nothing to you!¡±


    ¡°Ayre, I-¡± Astraea lets out an exasperated sigh. "This is bigger than both of us! You don''t even understand the weight of the history you would seek to undo."


    "How could I?¡± I shout before fumbling for words. I find only frustration and rage. ¡°Why is it that I¡¯m being punished for even considering something that feels right?¡±


    I can¡¯t even give Astraea the benefit of the doubt.


    Any passion that makes its way into her voice begins to feel performative. ¡°Because you don¡¯t even know how much they would curse your very existence. Even if you could save them, they would deny you over something as simple as changing the language you use to present yourself!¡±


    There is disbelief in her expression now.


    Why can¡¯t I read it as anything but a lack of faith in me?


    ¡°We are talking about stones that barely grow or change at all during the length of either of our lifetimes. You would make demands of entities long ago set in their ways!¡±


    I feel myself shake with disbelief at how all of this context and insight is only now being revealed.


    Where is all this coming from?


    And why now?


    Why not at any point during the privacy of the carriage ride here?


    She knew what this task of ours would eventually ask of us. She could have prepared me for this! I am starting to think I would have accepted a subtle manipulation over the cruelty of the final moments before the Full Moon¡¯s rise.


    ¡°By that logic, should I not make my case anyway? To give these stones the chance to live long enough to begin to change for the better? To show them that I am not their enemy?¡±


    Astraea¡¯s laugh is a bitter thing. ¡°It¡¯s not even a matter of whether or not you could save them. Please believe me I would much prefer we be having that conversation.¡±


    Reading her words as disengagement, I turn away from Astraea to make for the enclosure of the walls that will protect us from the moon¡¯s influence.


    Stolen novel; please report.


    A slender hand cast in a familiar tone of lilac manifests out of thin air to bar my path. Not Astraea, but something like her?


    Astraea¡¯s voice falls into resignation. ¡°Because this is you, I can¡¯t even let this course of action be on the table. To propose the idea alone would alienate everyone around you, claiming the lives of you and Cerya for nothing.¡±


    I narrow my eyes at the auspicious disembodied hand that dares get in my way. The feeling of dread that I have felt since feeding on Cerya rises until it embraces the futility Astraea demands I acknowledge.


    Even still, I can¡¯t spare Astraea more than an utterance of quiet disbelief. ¡°There¡¯s no changing this outcome?¡±


    ¡°The only reason no one has sealed your fate already is because you have only hinted at leaving room for the idea in front of the once Nineteenth Thorn before presenting yourself as someone who would not so easily cast him aside. Were he to interrogate what you have in mind and come away with the slightest of doubts, he would scream of it to anyone he could find!¡±


    That¡¯s not an answer to my question. Although the inevitability of even a discarded Seedling being taken seriously was likely intended to be an answer enough.


    ¡°So what?¡± I hang my shoulders in resignation. ¡°All this time spent slowly following in your footsteps and finding some worth in myself means nothing because I dared to consider something outside of what every Vylian and Lunarian already expects of me?¡± I whirl around, thrusting an accusing finger in her direction. ¡°And here I was under the impression that you expected better from me.¡±


    Astraea responds with accusations of her own. ¡°There is too much at stake to leave this to chance! Maybe if the Seed Seers imparted upon you the capacity to quiet your emotions and see reason.¡±


    Her words cause me to visibly flinch.


    She continues, showing no remorse. ¡°And I still do. I¡¯m just not willing to let you make a mistake like this.¡±


    My fangs sink at last into my lips as I accept that this conflict will not be resolved by anything short of giving my all in this moment.


    We feel emboldened as our every thought and feeling about this entire exchange becomes magnified.


    It all becomes so clear.


    We only have one question.


    ¡°What gives you the right?¡±


    We are expecting something reductive.


    Something about her having been in the same place as us.


    Or there being no putting this off now that my siblings are about to arrive.


    We don¡¯t get that.


    What Astraea offers us hurts in ways we struggle to grasp.


    ¡°What keeps Lenore and you alive in such a state is a divine blessing I know well. When it was mine to share, I bestowed it freely to alleviate the suffering of others, knowing full well that not everyone could benefit. And when that gift could no longer be shared, I mourned for all the suffering that could no longer be alleviated. Any other faithful willing to suffer the indignity of bending a knee to the Castellan who robbed this world of that blessing would have stripped you of your gifts the moment they could get away with it. Whether you like it or not, I¡¯m your only option.¡±


    We are all at once made aware of every fading scar and wound upon our shared person.


    Our parasite demands more blood than we can naturally produce.


    We crave a hunger for what lessons others in ways that terrify us.


    In this state, we exist only at the expense of others. Even if it is an expense that we negotiate with those who are willing to trust us.


    That our parasite might have originally been something kinder and gentler inspires all kinds of possibilities in our mind.


    ¡°And yet this gift has produced you.¡± Astraea says, her voice at last regaining a sense of impossible patience and familiarity with us and what we have been through. ¡°Someone who could, given time, demand Vylia spare the world from far more than this fragment of a blessing could restore.¡±


    Astraea¡¯s mouth tightens into a line.


    And we can see that there is more she wants to say before following through with what her Goddess demands.


    We give her a push, knowing that this might push her forever out of reach as someone we can trust. ¡°Just¡­ call us a wretch and forget about us. Don¡¯t¡­ Don¡¯t subject us to this.¡±


    And yet we feel a burning need to know what would push her to hurt us.


    ¡°What you and Lenore are becoming is a precious gift. I would rather take the both of you together, and welcome you like a kindred sister into a position where you could heal instead of harm.¡± There are tears in Astraea¡¯s eyes now.


    The truth hurts too much.


    We have seen so many permutations of the kinds of bonds that can form between those who are forced to become siblings. Contrasted now with those who choose to form those same bonds with care and affection is a kindness that we are being denied.


    We hold our breath as we brace ourselves at last for the exception that burdens her heart.


    ¡°Whether you know it or not, you now seek to share this gift with those who have long paid the steep cost that it demands. A gift in unchanging diamond stone has long been a small price to pay for bringing the dead back to life.¡± Astraea jabs a finger in our direction, even in anger she stops far short of touching us. ¡°Would you not bring Lenore back if all it cost you was the corpse of a gemstone that would spitefully deny you your lived existence? Could you honestly admit to me that you would be willing to waste your breath on someone who would be unmoved by multiple lifetimes of pain and suffering that could be alleviated with the shedding of mere fragments of themselves? How much have you bled to spare your Dolls from harm?¡±


    Astraea is in our face now.


    And we feel ourselves shrinking in our own estimations.


    Astraea wills herself to halt before we can again bring ourselves to meet her gaze. But she is nothing if not dutiful and relentless, even when her voice is gentle. ¡°What if someone else would kill the gem in your stead? Would you let the corpse go to waste? Imagine if there was a never ending source that Amari and those like her would be willing to provide to facilitate the widespread preservation of every life that everyone who is entrusted with this divine gift of bestowing life held dear.¡±


    We feel ourselves growing sick as Astraea steels herself to unburden yet more of this wretched history upon us.


    We can¡¯t take this.


    But we can¡¯t refute any of this.


    So we reach for what we know, even if it is venomous and cruel. ¡°No wonder my family widely considers the parasites that gives them their power to be such wretched things. I thought we were monsters.¡± But we feel our gaze and anger solidifying the longer we stare at Astraea¡¯s perfect and unblemished lilac skin. ¡°But you. All of you. You¡¯re so much worse, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    Astraea¡¯s laugh is thick with derision. ¡°You would not believe how many Gods sought to twist me into their own image.¡±


    She exposes herself to us so freely.


    Like we could do anything in this moment short of sharpening our words into a finely tipped point. Like a good little Prince, we drive that point straight into Astraea¡¯s heart. ¡°What about the one who succeeded?¡±


    Lilac hands manifest at Astraea¡¯s shoulders.


    The tension in them immediately relaxes before Astraea allows herself to frown. She allows disappointment to color her expression and voice. ¡°She is the only one who would be willing to redeem you. Just like she is the only one who gave me a say in how my sense of self could be redefined. Unlike the lengthy series of rituals the Seers would offer you, Lady Midnight could remake you with a touch.¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡± We say, showing our teeth in an attempt to emulate Amari¡¯s predatory grins. ¡°Of course your god-thing is the only exception amongst countless others.¡±


    Again Astraea pauses, before deciding to again show vulnerability. ¡°She and I were both monsters once.¡± Her voice tightens as she at least reaches for a reductive and overly familiar argument that certainly would not have swayed us before. ¡°Much like you are now.¡±


    Now though.


    We step confidently forward, our tone a derisive one. ¡°Of course. We can be redeemed for the many unforgivable acts we have committed. For being the Castellan¡¯s children. For defending ourselves against the countless faithful consigned to the Castellan¡¯s depths who would spear us for being made into a monster. Or, I don¡¯t know, maybe it¡¯s unforgivable that I now know my mother might be right about how all the gods deserve to die.¡±


    A crack in Astraea¡¯s facade. The words that spill from her lips fall short of anything meaningful. ¡°You¡¯re not being fair.¡±


    We seize the advantage, our voice growing vicious. ¡°We¡¯re not being fair? Tell your goddess that we hope the Castellan claims her life next.¡± We spit bitter words and needlessly shed blood at Astraea¡¯s feet.


    Predictably, her goddess takes offense.


    And she is not the only one.


    A coldness cuts through the air around me as shards of ice resonating with bitter emotions pierce through the space at my sides.


    Lilac arms reach out from nothingness to embrace Astraea, shielding her from a flurry of impaling shards that bury themselves in divinely crafted limbs more real than any of us.


    As I back away, the breath expelled from Astraea¡¯s lungs takes on a tangible weight that can be felt despite the distance. ¡°It was you who are irreplaceable. Ayre, Lenore, please know that I am truly sorry for what I must now do.¡±


    It is Cerya¡¯s voice that has my back, assuring me that I am not alone.


    ¡°The Castellan herself has promised this Princess to me. Who are you to challenge the prior claim of a Lunarian Seer under the light of the Full Moon?¡±

 Chapter 19 - Cruelty we Claim as Necessary

    Cerya


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to hurt you, Seed Seer Cerya.¡± Says the horned girl with the forked tongue while dressed in Vylian trappings.


    There is no comfort to be found in Astraea¡¯s words.


    Redeemable.


    She embitters what should taste sweet and right.


    To think she would not lighten our burden, but take away any opportunity for Ayre or I to make our own fate.


    Ayre is right.


    The circumstances Ayre and I survived up until this point have always been cruel. But in spite of all the misery caused by the Castellan and Mel¡¯Viora, what Astraea offers is worse.


    There is not a shadow of doubt in my mind.


    And she can¡¯t even see it.


    What Astraea is demanding is that Ayre perform a role that they find intolerable. And if Ayre won¡¯t do that, they don¡¯t get to be Ayre at all.


    All my indignation alights a topaz in bitter blue radiance as I level a pointed implement at Astraea.


    ¡°Ayre.¡± I snap, my voice as cool as the shards of ice beginning to manifest. ¡°If you value your life, I need you to run.¡±


    ¡°And leave you to face her alone?¡± Ayre says, in defiance of the danger.


    But I need them to get away from Astraea. Her goddess can only manifest in the presence of belief. There is no time for a logical argument, not without knowing for sure how much Ayre knows about how deities work.


    What should I reach for instead?


    It is too soon to reach for hope. Neither Ayre or I have done much more than recently come around to accepting such notions. Nevermind nurturing or putting stock in them.


    For too long I¡¯ve externalized my hope into allowing Snapdragon to define her needs.


    My framing of hope cannot be trusted. Not where it matters, no.


    ¡°Without you and Astraea, Snapdragon and Fia stand no chance guarding the walls. Go. Keep them safe.¡± I say, reaching instead to stoke Ayre¡¯s desperation.


    I¡¯ll happily accept if the motivation to protect Fia and Snapdragon takes priority over me.


    Even if I¡¯m pushing Ayre away, I just need it to work.


    And it does.


    My princess turns to flee, provoking Astraea to respond in kind.


    Ayre is fast, but Astraea is faster.


    At my invocation, a bolt of frost darts in the latter¡¯s direction.


    No hands intervene. Not when Astraea effortlessly readjusts her momentum.


    I furrow my brow in irritation.


    Two this time.


    Three the next.


    Is breaking the anger I feel down into pointed shards of my malice made manifest suddenly unworthy of her goddess¡¯s attention?


    By the fourth salvo, a part of me no longer cares about hurting Astraea.


    Such is the cost of wielding these gemstone implements that the Castellan craves. Each use comes at a cost. A knot in the wood here. A moment of discarding any hesitations there.


    Something stirs in the air that is not of my doing. At first it takes on an unnatural weight, and then it becomes a current.


    My shards of malice are redirected harmlessly to the side, allowing Astraea to prioritize the most direct path to Ayre.


    I change my approach. ¡°Princess. The Tourmaline!¡±


    There is no hesitation on Ayre¡¯s behalf. A tourmaline slotted implement is retrieved and extended. As the stone alights, Mel¡¯Viora¡¯s Reach rises from the grove¡¯s soil in the form of a root that wraps around and entangles the unworthy.


    It delays Astraea for only a few precious moments, and mostly because it takes her by surprise.


    To think Ayre raised a gemstone cut to the shape and standard of Mel¡¯Viora¡¯s own design and expected it to have a lasting effect


    Then again, Ayre probably didn¡¯t know any better.


    I lower my Shards of Malice, discarding the Topaz in favor of a Garnet gifted to me by Eluned. This one is much heavier with the weight of pains my sister expects me capable of withstanding. Nevermind what Theriya would be comfortable subjecting Ayre to.


    No implement will be necessary this time.


    Not when I intend to channel the well of resonance contained within the stone instead invoking it for its crafted purpose. Besides, it wouldn¡¯t be right to spare myself, not when being able to share in the experience will tell me what kind of pain Astraea reacts to.


    Ayre¡¯s would-be protector clutches at her arm as the fresh experience under my sister¡¯s care removes the memory of Cinder Blight embedded in my arm.


    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    The moment of me willingly jamming the still living gemstone entity into my flesh follows soon after.


    From there it is a deluge of every injury the Thorned Watchers have received in the past week.


    None of that stops Astraea.


    Not until the stone reaches for what should be the weaker resonances.


    The pain of Selescia and I picking dried blood from Ayre¡¯s hair.


    The long expected anguish of subjecting myself to being fed upon by another of the Castellan¡¯s brood is but a paltry sensation.


    Next comes every instance of Ayre subjecting themselves to harm in my presence. Every nail in the palm, every tooth to the lip, and every hesitation at the cusp of deciding whether or not the insight of their sister was needed.


    Whether they knew she was there or not rings most clearly in the echoing ache felt upon imparting to Selescia all that Ayre has experienced.


    Even something as subtle as me squeezing Ayre too tight to be comfortable is stored within this stone.


    Astraea experiences all of that and more.


    From her belt, a spaded tail reveals itself to coil around a lustrous black keystone.


    Astraea jams it into place, manifesting onyx armored plating that displaces the root binding her leg faster than it would take to untangle herself or break free.


    One gauntleted hand quickly poises to throw something in my direction.


    A held breath is exhaled.


    From her grasp erupts a howling gale centered around the vague idea of a spear to tear through the space between us.


    There is no dodging what takes my feet out from under me. I lack even the time to comprehend the kind of invocation that could manage such force from a mere breath.


    To say nothing of what kind of change invoking without a stone would subject one¡¯s own body to. The presence of a goddess and willingness to cast without a focus would certainly explain Astraea¡¯s rather unique bodily features.


    Bodies like hers do not occur naturally, but are shaped over time.


    Astraea finishes pivoting, redirecting her momentum to knock implements and gemstones alike from my hands before catching me by the collar. All of this, before my head can crack against the stone road.


    I can¡¯t help but feel giddy at the audacity of Astraea choosing to spare me the time and care it would take to ensure I come away from this confrontation uninjured.


    Ayre was right to suspect that Astraea might be the more capable of the two in a fight.


    Still.


    The kind of power Astraea is throwing around without a visible focus or reserve means there is a limit to how much she can exert herself.


    Vylian nobility on the other hand thrive at stripping others of their senses and life¡¯s blood. I can count on Ayre to endure provided they are willing and able to feed.


    And I can think of no one more willing to shed the sense of her undesired role than Snapdragon.


    Astraea lifts me until I am at eye level, her voice falls to a low and dangerous growl. "Why are you so insistent on stopping me? You have scarcely known Ayre for more than a day!"


    If all I need to do is stress her for time and energy, I¡¯ve got options.


    Especially if she is willing to fight without harming me.


    My hands reach for the spare implements at my belted waist, knowing Astraea will be faster.


    Words will suffice for my next jab in this dance between us. ¡°True. But I¡¯ve known Snapdragon for long enough to know you¡¯re making a mistake with Ayre.¡±


    Astraea strips me of my belt before tossing it to the side. It¡¯s enough that her attention is diverted from the Rose Quartz earrings that pierce my ears.


    Before I subject Astraea to the sense of loss contained within, I spend my final words on giving her reason to doubt. ¡°You and I have been changed by the power we wield.¡±


    Her eyes begin to trail back upwards, her gaze narrowing at my words.


    Bright pink light begins to shine as I attempt to drown her in another cascade of raw emotional resonance. Before we are both lost in the current, I channel every bitter moment of convincing myself that there could be no mending the relationship between Snapdragon and I.


    It is the kind of resonance that makes one¡¯s voice weak. ¡°But our skin deep changes are nothing compared to the transition they are going through.¡±


    The weight of loss brings us both low.


    Four other Seed Seers used to share the spire with Theriya and I, their rooms now empty of reminders that they ever existed at all. So it goes.


    I am merely the sister Theriya has left. I am the one she would sooner attempt to kill the entire grove than risk burying.


    And yet I welcomed Ayre and Astraea into our spire instead of allowing her to take precautions that would preemptively sour any chance at forming a positive connection.


    Recognition of a willingness to do much the same burns in Astraea¡¯s eyes as she pushes through an emotion she knows all too well.


    The faces of every buried Seedling and mounting guilt over every Gemstone shaped into a weapon make for an exhausting experience.


    Each Rose Quartz burns with a blinding radiance as Astraea sets her jaw and begins to pry them both from my ears.


    But in that final moment of contact, Astraea¡¯s own losses join the stream of emotional resonance.


    I am treated to the faces of a ship¡¯s crew. Astraea¡¯s crew, I realize, as I identify the reverence and deference paid to her in the fleeting memories.


    Numbers dwindle as each loss is felt and given to the sea. Each iteration of the same ritual plays out, one after another, until only eight remain.


    The long procession of Astraea¡¯s losses ends not with a burial at sea but with a pair of shadows cast over a wood carved box consigned to a pit in the soil.


    A stone marks the grave: Farah Shahir Wyrmsbane


    My blurry vision of a memory is dragged back to the present.


    The intensity of Astraea¡¯s gaze finds mine, her determination wavering as the aftermath of the stones¡¯ resonance is felt.


    Her mask slips, revealing to me someone who is haunted by what she has lost.


    We are both breathing hard now, although I suspect for very different reasons.


    I must let my willingness to continue this contest show.


    Can I really be blamed?


    She¡¯s given me everything I could ever need to chip away at her core with words alone.


    ¡°No.¡± Astraea¡¯s voice is deep and commanding. ¡°That¡¯s enough.¡±


    But my ears and heart sense a hollowness in her voice.


    It is the kind of sense that thinks an embrace would be more appropriate than pushing her any further than I already have.


    Would she harm me if I used her emotions against her?


    Do I care?


    Should I?


    Do I even need to?


    How much time has passed?


    Will I even get a choice in the matter?


    The light of the moon does not sway my thoughts towards a bitter conclusion.


    There is time yet then, if I wish to relent.


    ¡°Tie me up.¡± I say, wishing these were any other circumstances. ¡°If you¡¯re not going to hurt me-¡±


    ¡°Alright.¡± Astraea says, agreeing to a solution that will prevent the moon from demanding this conflict of ours end in bloodshed.


    In this moment, I have succeeded in the only thing that matters, securing Ayre time.


    All around us, it begins to get brighter as the moon begins to crest the horizon.


    With time only for one last exchange, Astraea¡¯s words turn bitter. ¡°Do you honestly think what you have done here is right? Do you have any idea what you have risked?¡± Astraea gives me a withering look as she begins to bind my hands and feet. The first is done with a length of rope. The latter is secured with my own belt.


    Between witnessing the bitter fury over what I have subjected her to and the possibility of failing her goddess¡¯s demand, I¡¯m not sure what she expects from me.


    Not after everything that has passed between Ayre and us.


    I bite my tongue until I find the words I¡¯m looking for.


    Something both honest and cruel.


    She should harvest what she sows.


    ¡°For all I know, I have succeeded only in sending Ayre to their death.¡± My words make it a meek admission.


    How could I not?


    She¡¯s not the only one who has had the intensity of countless emotions eating away at her resolve and focus.


    It would be better if I shut them out while I still can. Instead I allow myself to wonder what Ayre must feel like when they are hungry and feel lessened.


    She lifts me under one of her arms, seeming intent to carry me to the grove¡¯s wall. ¡°You better hope you¡¯re wrong, Lunarian Seer.¡± Astraea¡¯s bitterness manages to fend off any sense of resignation.


    I am left to think back to Astraea¡¯s question. It weighs in my mind as I compare what I have learned of Ayre against what I see in Snapdragon. Eventually I settle for offering Astraea an answer that is as bitter as it is comforting. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter what I think is right. I just know that for the likes of Snapdragon and Ayre, the likes of you and I don¡¯t get to decide the outcome.¡±

 Chapter 20 - Forged in the Light of the Moon

    Snapdragon


    Noticing far too much is an obsessive curse best turned outwards. That way when I find my thoughts turning inwards, I¡¯ll know it is the Moon¡¯s handiwork and not my own.


    Or at least that is more or less what is what I tell myself to steady my nerves.


    There is only so much that can be done.


    That everyone I know would be better off without me weighing them down.


    Or maybe I can go a step further than removing myself and take the worst with me.


    And all the other little lies that can¡¯t be resisted under the light of the moon until blood has been shed.


    Our Moon is so willing to bargain and pretend that we would be going out on our terms.


    But if we won¡¯t come out to play and insist on hiding away, the Moon will sway others caught out and under its light into directing their blood thirst in our direction.


    Traveling the roads can be safe enough, provided it is done in small numbers and proper precautions are taken to at least pretend we are respecting the moon¡¯s threat.


    Large and prolonged battles in open fields or sieges lasting many a night are but wasteful expressions of a world the Lunarian Moon no longer allows.


    Or at least, that is the way Sapling Seer Eluned tells it. Although she had been a Seedling of a Seer at the time. I wonder how much Cerya¡¯s instructions might differ.


    Thankfully, Cerya is nothing like the older sister whose footsteps she is expected to follow.


    How much does Ayre differ from their siblings? I could ask the same of Lenore.


    Is any deviation from our intended roles an imperfect expression in need of correction? Or can I hope that some allowances must be made in order to not cannibalize a nation¡¯s ability to function?


    How was it taught to us?


    Each Lunarian grove is sewn in circumstances where a bountiful return is all but assured by the Grove Tender.


    Where natural resources fall short, groves tend to make their own bounty.


    I can almost picture Mel¡¯Viora leaning into political circumstances to justify a modest sized grove that could give the Castellan priority access to crafted implements that suit her needs in a more timely manner.


    Placed right on the border as we are, how many other groves did Mel¡¯Viora cut out of consideration with the sewing of her own garden of Lunarians?


    A standing lake kept clear enough to serve as a reflective pool forms much of the grove¡¯s border, making defending the grove easy enough. No sense maintaining a large standing guard when our only foreign neighbor is the heart of Vylia itself.


    How many times have I guarded my grove¡¯s only two walls and tower?


    Will there come a day when I find out why our walls face not Vylia, but the rest of the greater wooded expanse of the Lunarian groves?


    How far does Mel¡¯Viora¡¯s vision extend if she is just as concerned with threats from within as she is from without?


    How much do these perceived suspicions extend to me? Is there a future where I am considered a worthy bounty that Mel¡¯Viora has nurtured? Or are her words careless seeds planted only to be harvested or cut if something unsightly grows from them?


    Does Ayre really need to prove themself beyond rising to the rank of Fourteenth Sibling? Or is there something in this arrangement between Ayre and the Seed Seers that I cannot see?


    Was Seer Eluned not also paired with the previous Fourteenth Prince?


    My endless ruminations are disturbed by the seedling formerly known as Nineteenth Thorn.


    Only four days my younger brother, he is more driven by a need to prove himself, and yet utterly blind to the world I see.


    ¡°Any sign of Ayre?¡± Nineteen asks the moment his patrol brings him within range of a whispered conversation.


    ¡°Not yet, no.¡± I say, trying not to show annoyance at how his first question is always a pointed one.


    He hesitates for as long as he feels is polite. ¡°First says it¡¯s time. Last call and all that.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± I say, not allowing any hint of emotion into my voice. ¡°I¡¯ll start my last rounds before moonrise.¡±


    Nineteenth¡¯s stare lasts longer than it should before terminating with a nod.


    The former Nineteenth Thorn and I share this stretch of the wall while First and Second Thorns watch from the other. Four is more than enough to keep a watchful eye.


    It is just not enough to sleep in shifts or spare anyone who is injured.


    Our prospects of actually fending anything off is dismal enough that I worry how we will fare without Ayre or Astraea here.


    I¡¯ve largely confined Fia to the tower in the middle where she has the least responsibility and is in the least danger. Positioned between each wall where a full Watcher compliment might otherwise rest in shifts, she is comfortably equidistant from the four of us if something tries to breach the tower from above. Anytime we communicate between walls, the tower is where we do it.


    Ayre¡¯s blood doll is as safe as I can make her.


    I wish I could claim this was for her benefit.


    Fia is a sweetheart, but Second knows what Cerya and Theriya call me in private. Beloved and Snapdragon both.


    It is enough that Second gave me a pointed look in First¡¯s presence. Thankfully, so far nothing has come of it. But I am not privy to the conversations passing between them inside the other wall.


    The last thing we need is adding any surprise complications. Ayre, Cerya, and Theriya have enough to worry about without giving First cause for concern.


    Any Thorn stepping out of line is the kind of thing she sees as her role to address.


    Nothing she is likely to do would have my interests in mind.


    Not that it would stop her.


    How would she frame it?


    A lesser brother I can forgive, but I¡¯m not willing to lose a sister.


    As far as anyone else cares, I am the Third Watcher, positioned to push us to our limits until we blossom into terrifying Lunarian regulars.


    Course, being the lowest rank present, currently this means being the one willing to give Nineteen the benefit of the doubt for long enough to perform tonight¡¯s duties.


    As for the Second Thorn, he is First¡¯s right hand. I doubt everything I tell Second makes it back to her, but I haven¡¯t become a problem yet. Not openly. Nineteen on the other hand is not someone First would go to any length to save when things get dire tonight.


    Nineteen and I run the length of the interior of our assigned wall, making sure every hatch to the forest outside is secure.


    Hinges and latches are tested for the third time. Each must shut securely and remain well oiled enough to function for tonight¡¯s purposes. With less than our full planting, we can scarcely afford to have a single hatch refuse to respond when we need it to.


    I save the door to the interior of the grove for last, in the hopes that Ayre will finally show.


    Nineteen is still approaching from his side, being extra thorough.


    I give the door a few silent, pleading moments.


    The moment Nineteen turns in my direction, a sudden weight forces the door open.


    I step to the side, lowering a spear into position before letting it fall from my hands.


    Ayre, wide eyed, disregards me in favor of slamming and barring the door shut behind them.


    Each breath they take is hard and labored.


    Their heart hammers from an intense and sustained exertion.


    Flecks of artificially frozen malice dust the length of clothing covering their arms.


    ¡°What happened?¡± I say, but Ayre is already speaking.


    ¡°I can¡¯t run from this. I can¡¯t¡­¡± They close their eyes, letting the words go in favor of catching their breath.


    Nineteen closes the distance between us. Unlike me,he is unwilling to set his spear aside. ¡°There have been no sightings reported. Cinder Blight or otherwise.¡± His eyes narrow at Ayre¡¯s arms, detecting the same traces of artificially lingering frost from a cold emotional resonance that I do. ¡°Has someone dared to bother you before a Full Moon?¡±


    Oh Nineteen, how little you allow yourself to see. Being cut loose from the Thorns is the best thing that could have happened to you.


    Nineteen visibly struggles with having lost his preferred hand and awkwardly shifts the javelin to the crude replacement. All so that they can offer Ayre a well intentioned hand in support.


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    While I try not to think less of myself for having such harsh thoughts, I can''t help but notice Nineteen''s gesture that goes unacknowledged.


    The next question that comes to mind, I don¡¯t ask.


    Where is Astraea?


    ¡°Nineteen.¡± I cut in. ¡°I want you atop the tower. Tell me what you see.¡±


    He looks back and forth between us. There is no telling what subtext he is capable of taking away, but it is clear enough that he knows he is being dismissed.


    I¡¯ll¡­ deal with that later.


    Unfortunately, he does not depart quietly. ¡°Right. Let me know if Astraea shows up.¡±


    Ayre winces.


    And it does not go unnoticed by Nineteen. Something about his expression tells me that he regrets his words. His departure is swift, offering me an apologetic look.


    I don¡¯t imagine he meant anything by it, hopefully his narrowing down the list of what could be bothering Ayre does not go to waste.


    Ayre looks visibly shaken in a way I¡¯ve not yet seen. There is an uncertainty in the way they double check their surroundings and the door that suggests they don¡¯t feel safe. Last I checked, they were surrounded by those they trust most.


    Or has that trust been strained or violated in some way? It¡¯s not something I would expect out of someone like Astraea. She always struck me as the fiercely loyal type.  And yet the lingering resonance suggests that Cerya could just as likely been at fault.


    But I just can¡¯t see the latter. Cerya has regretted every mistake she¡¯s made with me. Already I notice her making overtures to sidestep hurting Ayre in the same ways.


    There¡¯s no telling how much time we¡¯ll have before the attacks begin.


    Moonrise will be any moment now.


    But it will be a long night.


    I should address what I can. We¡¯re going to need Ayre¡¯s strength. Especially without Astraea here.


    Whether Ayre can enact their own plan or resolve what is bothering them will just have to depend on whether we have enough time to address what has changed.


    ***


    I position myself by one of the hatches so that I can keep watch on Ayre and the night outside.


    Ayre offers me no words or physical touch.


    When they hesitantly meet my gaze, I sense the kind of profound distress that can¡¯t become tears. Not yet at least.


    Uproot it all, the first thing that comes to my mind is that Mel¡¯Viora won¡¯t release me from my suffocating role if Ayre is not capable of fending off the full moon¡¯s threats.


    I shove this thought down as quickly as it surfaces.


    It shouldn¡¯t matter.


    Not if Ayre is hurting.


    That needs to be my focus.


    And so I reach for an apology framed to address the circumstances that led Ayre here. ¡°I know Theriya and I are the ones who conspired to put you in this position.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡± Ayre lies, unconvincingly.


    I note a hurried desperation in their reply.


    Maybe an apology isn¡¯t what they need.


    No.


    Ayre knows what they signed up for.


    I can offer them better than that. ¡°I just¡­ I wanted to thank you. We put you through far more than we intended.¡± I take a cautious step forward, to close the distance between us.


    Ayre flinches.


    So I halt my advance.


    This time I do offer apologies and assurances in Cerya¡¯s stead. ¡°Sorry. I¡¯m here, but you can pretend I¡¯m not if it¡¯s what works for you. When you¡¯re ready.¡±


    It is with closed eyes that Ayre takes the next step. ¡°It¡¯s just. Cerya just¡­ She was there for me just now. In a way I¡¯m not sure anyone else could have been.¡± Ayre¡¯s eyes open, and their distress becomes plain to see.


    They¡¯re worried.


    It¡¯s the kind of worry that they¡¯re unsure they will ever get to address.


    As someone who has been there, it is with visible difficulty that I offer Ayre a sympathetic smile. ¡°Yeah. She¡¯s like that sometimes.¡± I leave it at that, unsure if it is quite the right time or place to claim that moving mountains for someone they care for is a quality they have in common. ¡°Tell me what happened.¡±


    And they do.


    I wish I could embrace them.


    I wish I could press them for more information.


    I wish I had time and privacy to say all the things that feel like they need to be said.


    Ayre has just had their trust broken by someone who has pledged to protect them. Not only that, but Astraea has the kind of body and confidence that might make Ayre think she has all the answers.


    This is not the kind of pain I can ease or dull. If anything, I¡¯m someone who would think the same. Upon first seeing Ayre feed on Selescia, I thought they themselves had the answer to my circumstances.


    If we had more time, I¡¯m sure there is something I could think of to say that did more than make Ayre¡¯s anger and pain my own.


    But I don¡¯t have the answers Ayre needs.


    Not with the time we have.


    Not when these kinds of emotions will serve them well in using the gemstone implements in their possession.


    ¡°What would you ask of me?¡± I say, intending to clarify whether they need advice, consoling, or just someone to listen.


    But the words and tears come freely now.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what to do.¡± Ayre says, visibly straining to hold back the tide of tears and emotions.


    For every mistake Cerya has made, Theriya has been the one to step in and prevent a breaking point between us.


    Can I be that?


    I take a deep breath, considering what I know.


    Ayre is self-reflective to the point of relentlessness. Despite not inherently being a bad trait, looking upset and like they are about to panic is not likely to lead anywhere kind to themselves.


    Not that anything I do now to help them will hold up under the moonlight. But that would be asking too much of myself, wouldn¡¯t it?


    I just need to ease their concerns enough to help them decide on a plan of action. If they are still willing to go forward with their intended plan, I¡¯ll hear them out or give them a push as needed.


    No matter how unprepared I feel, I am who Ayre has to support them.


    As much as I¡¯d like to be gentle, I need Ayre prepared for whatever comes next.


    I lock eyes with my Princess. ¡°Ayre, what has been done to you is enough to shatter stones intended to be unchanged by compounding emotions. As far as I¡¯m concerned, we won¡¯t know if anything Astraea claims is true until you try.¡±


    Ayre¡¯s voice and posture shrinks. ¡°And if I ruin everything?¡±


    ¡°Then I will be here at your side, helping you pick up the pieces.¡± I say, stepping forward to close that distance and offer them reassurance.


    They take a step back and away from me.


    ¡°No matter what comes next.¡± I say, hand over my heart.


    Ayre won¡¯t hear of it. They shake their head. ¡°I can¡¯t let you be hurt too. Not after Cerya¡­¡±


    I want to grin, knowing my Cerya wouldn¡¯t allow herself to be hurt so easily. But I try and maintain my stone faced mask intended to be unimpressed by Ayre¡¯s worries. ¡°Did you see her get hurt?¡±


    ¡°No. But-¡±


    I¡¯m relentless. ¡°Will worrying help her or change anything?¡±


    ¡°What if I can do something about it?¡± Ayre says, backing into the wall alongside the door.


    I make a pointed gesture towards it. ¡°Well, go on then. I¡¯m sure Cerya will be pleased to have you also at the mercy of this Goddess.¡±


    Something in Ayre changes.


    I watch as they wrestle their emotions into something more vicious and cold.


    And then I twist the knife.


    My pitch deepens as I reach for the Third Watcher voice that issues from within my lungs. ¡°Just leave Fia and I at the mercy of the Full Moon and Mel¡¯Viora both.¡±


    Ayre freezes up.


    Too much?


    I relent, backing away a step. ¡°Whatever you do. Make it matter. Commit to it.¡± And then I turn away, hating myself for pushing myself into something like cruelty to be what I think Ayre needs.


    They don¡¯t let me get far, their words a plea.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know who I am anymore, Snapdragon. You¡¯ve put all these ideas in my head that I can just redefine myself. And it¡¯s not just you. Cerya, Amari, and even Astraea are guilty of it. And I just don¡¯t see it. Yet the steps are in front of me. They feel natural to take even when trying to understand why only leads to doubts, threats, and fears that I¡¯m going to get someone hurt unnecessarily.¡±


    I turn to face Ayre as they put their feelings into words.


    Their voice is delicate, but something is different. ¡°How do I know if the next step is worth it if I can¡¯t see the ending as clearly as you all do?¡±


    It¡¯s not not a question of whether or not to take the leap, so much as a plea for an assurance I cannot offer.


    And so I shrug. ¡°You don¡¯t. You just take the steps that come natural to you anyway. Because to do anything else would be a lie. But if it is assurances you want, eventually the doubts, threats, and even the punishments stop mattering. Not if they¡¯re coming from someone who can¡¯t see and acknowledge the whole of who you are and what you were always going to become.¡±


    Ayre¡¯s hand begins to hover over their beating heart.


    I remind myself that they are not going to trust easily, not with a betrayal of their trust so fresh in their mind. ¡°Ayre, you¡¯ve described yourself as trapped in a prison of your own flesh. Our Seers and your protector might claim they can set you free, but only you will get to decide what change is the best for you.¡±


    They look up at me, eyebrows raised. ¡°How are you so confident?¡±


    It is my turn to turn away and make myself vulnerable for Ayre¡¯s sake. ¡°Cerya has tried to make my body and language more tolerable for me. But it¡¯s the role assigned to me I cannot escape. Not without you.¡± I clutch at my arm, willing my grip to be gentle. ¡°If you are capable of half of what most think you are, you eliminate the need for my role. As far as I¡¯m concerned, a part of me would prefer it if you stripped me of my senses.¡±


    Especially if it means they can save far more than I ever could.


    Ayre steps forward, but this time it is I who back away.


    They lower their voice. ¡°You¡¯re not confident at all, are you?¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°No. I¡¯m borrowing heavily from assurances made by Ceriya and Theriya both. If I look beyond the face of this exchange, I have no way of knowing whether I¡¯ll even be the same person if you take too much. And for all I know, my magnified senses will worsen a delicate balance. You wouldn¡¯t just know what eats away at me, but gain an intense understanding of what bothers you about your own circumstances. And I wouldn¡¯t wish the kind of disconnect I feel on anyone, let alone intensify whatever kinds of hurt you''re going through.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t feed on you.¡± Ayre says.


    And I laugh at that. To think that they would now seek to comfort me. ¡°No. You don¡¯t get to make that call. Not this early. When the Cinder Blights do not attack immediately, it is typically because they¡¯ve spent their time infecting something dangerous.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough.¡± They say, offering me platitudes in the face of the cruelty of our situation being something long in the making.


    ¡°You should cast that fairness to the depths of yours. I¡¯d rather dream of a world where you and I seized what we wanted from the corpses of any who would deny an end to the pains inflicted upon us.¡±


    The pained smile I get from Ayre is the kind of emotional resonance that I half expected I would get. Of course they would relate to my most unkind and selfish thoughts.


    ¡°You¡¯d have me be ruthless.¡± Ayre says it with a grin. ¡°Just like my family made me.¡±


    I shake my head, only showing a surface level irritation. ¡°You are more than how they would define you. Don¡¯t do their work for them.¡± My words are followed with a sigh as I am interrupted.


    Snapping to attention, I witness the first signs of something moving through the distant treeline.


    Ayre reaches for a pair of spears, passing a lighter javelin to me.


    I finish my thought while I can. ¡°I would rather you make them choke on every attempt to lessen you. Make them pay for what they would demand of us.¡±


    Everything begins to happen at once.


    Our tender moment ends to the sound of beating wings both large and powerful.


    Nineteen¡¯s voice begins to shout as the walls around us begin to shudder.


    ¡°The gate! Someone is opening the gate!¡±


    Ayre takes off at a run.


    Meanwhile I keep my attention on the tree line.


    Glimpses at the size of the creature alone are enough to cause my heart to sink.


    Ayre peels back a hatch, giving them a sight line on the gate.


    From the tree line emerges a scaled creature of considerable bulk displaying traits that suggest it is well into its adolescence. A dozen visible clusters of Cinder Blight glint in all their luster under the moonlight. Sharpened quills quiver with each movement of its tail, each abrupt shift stopping just shy of flinging a quill loose.


    From the open gates of the grove emerges a horned woman with lilac skin and a spaded tail.


    No explanation is given for how a girl could shift the weight of a stone gate that large on her own.


    Nor is there time to demand one.


    Nineteen communicates their alarm with a shift in his voice alone.


    We¡¯re under attack by a Quill-tailed Drake.


    And Astraea has just opened the gates.

 Chapter 21 - A Quiet Hope Drowning in Despair

    Ayre


    I don¡¯t know what I¡¯m looking at.


    The depths could never support a creature that large. Even if something could grow to that size, it would have to be confined to a cavernous chamber it could never escape. To claim nothing of how it could eat enough to grow and sustain such a size.


    What had the Nineteenth Thorn called it?


    A Quill-tailed Drake?


    Adorned in bronze scales that glint in the moonlight, the drake immediately presents itself as a brute by barreling through the foliage and treeline instead of using the terrain for cover.


    Quills with blackened tips mark the trees that they rake against.


    ¡°Are those quills poisoned?¡± I ask, something like dread beginning to lace my words.


    Snapdragon looks over her shoulder, already in the process of trading in her javelins for a heavier bolt thrower. ¡°If it¡¯s still alive. Yes. I¡¯m afraid they are also quite potent.¡±


    I eye the pattern of scales that adorn the Quill-tail Drake, unsure that even my strength can pierce those scales. Instead I spend my time assessing thickened muscle of the inner legs, underline of the neck, and leathery wings.


    It opens its jaw wide, threatening Astraea with a show of teeth and a fierce cry.


    By comparison, Astraea presents an image of calm.


    Under the moonlight, everyone¡¯s thoughts would be an open tome for a bloodthirsty moon.


    Could I remain anywhere near as confident in the face of such a creature? Or do such thoughts demand I prove myself more than is expected of me?


    That nothing gets into the grove is what matters. Keeping injuries and deaths to a minimum long enough to achieve that should bind my means to my desired end.


    And yet I don¡¯t know if Cerya is okay.


    Dare I hope?


    Can I trust that Astraea would know that I would be more easily convinced if she did not harm Cerya?


    Or should I assume the worst and work from there?


    Alone, unarmed, and bathed in moonlight, Astraea strides at an unhurried pace to meet the approaching threat. Her onyx parade armor is polished to the point of serving as a reflective surface.


    The slightest glimpse of the moon causes my hair to stand on end.


    I am beyond redemption¡¯s reach.


    I back away, my response a touch sluggish compared to Snapdragon¡¯s immediate recoil and withdraw.


    The thoughts cause my head to ache with the pointed intensity.


    There is no forgiving one such as me.


    Only honeyed words to lure me into moments of weakness.


    Snapdragon offers me a look of sympathy before beginning to prep her bolt thrower.


    The rest of the wall suddenly feels empty. Without the rest of her thorns, she comforts herself with hopeful words. ¡°Lady Wyrmsbane probably knows what she¡¯s doing.¡±


    Yeah.


    Hopefully she does.


    The thought brings me no comfort.


    Astraea comes to a stop as the drake begins to charge.


    Distantly, I hear the words of the First Thorn coming from the direction of the tower.


    ¡°Aim for the wings!¡±


    Five bolts are let loose, the last noticeably being fired later than the others.


    Is Fia up there?


    Has she been practicing all this time or was a bolt thrower merely pressed into her hands out of a perceived necessity?


    Am I responsible for that?


    Three bolts strike true.


    One dents a scale.


    The last falls short of the charging drake.


    Instinctively, it cries out.


    In pain.


    The cries are prolonged and unending.


    Something about it upsets me to the point where I feel an increased weight on my chest.


    I can¡¯t unsee it, the blighted stones each being lodged into limbs.


    Wings, legs, tail, and neck.


    Something about its gait strikes me as unnatural.


    Their placement can¡¯t be unintentional.


    Can I turn a blind eye to this drake having its body used against its will?


    The moon might demand violence of everything exposed to moonlight, but what about blighted stones conspiring to drive a powerful creature from its preferred grounds?


    I haven¡¯t even gotten a chance to attempt communicating with the gemstones and moon.


    I¡­ Realize that my flash of anger is directionless.


    If I want anything in this moment, it is to put a stop to everything unfolding around me.


    I find fury in knowing Cerya has largely been alone in viewing our enemies as worthy of having their circumstances and perspectives considered. It is one thing to rouse the corpses of the dead to lash out against those who would kill and use the Cinder Blights.


    But if they are binding the living and unwilling into thoughtless moonlit bloodletting in the vicinity of Lunarian groves, am I willing to give them the benefit of the doubt?


    Why do I still feel like I would be right to throw this spear not at the drake but Astraea¡¯s turned back? Just because the full moon¡¯s presence demands that the time for reasoned debate has passed does not mean that there will be no sun to rise in the morning.


    Or does Astraea¡¯s claim that I would be no different still bleed like an open wound to my heart that no amount of blood can mend?


    Is it not enough that I have defied my family at every turn to the point that they have tried to kill Lenore and I? What about when the Castellan arranged for me to be sent away to be a Lunarian concern?


    Does my anger make me the problem? Or does it condemn me to never escaping the shadow cast by the Castellan?


    Depths. I¡¯ve had moments where I¡¯ve been willing to give, of all who have caused me suffering, the Castellan the benefit of the doubt. What purpose could there be in all the violence I have been subjected to if not to violently resist a god-thing threatening to remake me?


    No amount of deep breaths feel like they will calm me, not while everyone around me performs their assigned roles to violent and bloody ends.


    But I don¡¯t have all the time in the world to think this through.


    Snapdragon would have me share this burden. But did Cerya not already ask that I be the one to define what our desired ends look like?


    Should I hesitate to leverage the fact that I remain the wretched Prince the Castellan made me?


    Why wait when I can define the ending?


    The first step, the one that carries me into an act of defiance that I will need to follow through to the end, is the hardest to take.


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    I raise a spear, open a hatch wide enough to see my target, and throw.


    No need to borrow strength from my sister.


    Not when the only thing guiding this spear is a heartfelt hope.


    I turn away, trusting it to land where it needs to.


    The distance between Snapdragon and I closes.


    ¡°The other wing!¡± Shouts First from the tower.


    I place a hand on her bolt thrower, lowering it.


    No words pass between us.


    Only an exchange of emotion.


    Four bolts fly.


    A sidelong glance tells me that only one found their mark this time.


    Where the drake is all power and direct blows, Astraea moves with an unnatural grace. Having already dodged the charge, she leaps over the tail.


    A half step to the side evades a trio of quills delivered with the flick of a tail.


    Two more steps bring a spear within reach.


    Astraea¡¯s dexterous evasions become a lunge the moment the drake commits to an aerial pounce. An outstretched claw has its strength used against it, burying a spear into softer flesh.


    The cries of the drake intensify, but with a buffet of wings it creates distance from itself and Astraea.


    Blood oozes freely from a wing tucked against its side as the drake begins to fend off Astraea primarily with swings of the tail and discharged quills.


    The tower is not spared from this assault. Two quills skid off the stonework tower, but one disappears into an open slit.


    No cries can be heard in response.


    ¡°Help me stop this.¡± I say.


    Snapdragon takes a deep breath before setting aside a look of concern. ¡°I will.¡±


    We begin to run the length of the wall.


    She trades a bolt thrower for a spear. One of the heavier ones, not intended for throwing.


    Another cry from the drake follows the third salvo.


    I draw open a cover to see four fresh bolts embedded in the drake¡¯s wing.


    For her part, Snapdragon opens the door to the tower¡¯s base. Her hands reach for a cloak. ¡°This will buy you a few moments to get into position. Whatever your plan, make it quick.¡±


    I accept the offered protection with a grateful smile. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Her reply comes in the form of a shake of the head. ¡°You can thank me by not dying or letting Astraea take you from us.¡±


    I step into the base of the tower, knowing that we will likely be overheard by the other Watchers. ¡°I can¡¯t promise that.¡±


    Snapdragon pulls down a cloak of her own. ¡°You can. Do so knowing that I¡¯ll make you regret breaking it.¡±


    Her confidence eases the building tension and doubts, if only for a moment. In spite of everything that I am now pressing myself into doing, I allow myself to relax. ¡°I regret not promising Cerya I would avoid attempting anything alone.¡±


    Deep breaths.


    I can¡¯t change what has already happened.


    But I can make this moment matter. It will affect every moment that follows.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay.¡± Snapdragon says, her voice gentle and expression apologetic.


    ¡°I promise you I intend to come back alive. My aim is not to throw my life away so much as it is to change our circumstances in a way that only I can.¡±


    Snapdragon holds my gaze for as long as she can afford to. ¡°Ayre. I trust you. Had she not already done so, Cerya would claim the same. Make for the inner door closest to the stone gates. Do what you think is best.¡±


    We part ways without another word.


    She is bound for the staircase leading up the tower.


    While I have chosen to take my chances under the light of the moon.


    The cloak keeps the thoughts at bay long enough for me to make my way through the open stone gates of the grove. Astraea and the drake are still trading who is on the offensive.


    There is still time¡­


    ¡­To make a terrible mistake.


    But when has that stopped me?


    The moon¡¯s light stops me in my tracks.


    What could I do?


    Alone, probably not enough.


    But I¡¯m not alone. I haven¡¯t been for a while now.


    I hoist a heavy spear aloft before sinking my teeth into my lips.


    I becomes we.


    From somewhere high up, Snapdragon calls out¡­ Something.


    But we, or just¡­ I don¡¯t hear her.


    I am left with the distinct impression that it is just me that has the moon¡¯s undivided attention.


    Lenore¡¯s absence is a profound emptiness that cannot be ignored. Her voice does not ring in my thoughts, echoing my own with her own perspective.


    Being alone reignites my sense of dread.


    Every doubt becomes magnified as I realize that I will have to face the moon entirely alone.


    Am I the problem?


    Or am I the only one that matters?


    Just me.


    My thoughts.


    And not the good ones.


    But the ones I bury as deep as I can.


    And there are¡­


    So.


    Many.


    So what if I am the one that is in the wrong?


    Who cares if I am the problem that needs to be prevented?


    It is everything I can do to keep my focus on the fight between Astraea and the Quill-tailed Drake.


    I won¡¯t hurt Fia, Snapdragon, or Cerya.


    Anyone but them.


    How fitting to finally be set free to feed without fear.


    To think I am monster in need of a redeemer instead of a protector.


    To the very depths with that line of thinking.


    And anyone who would force it upon me.


    Lenore


    It¡¯s dark.


    I see nothing.


    Smell nothing.


    Taste, nothing at all.


    Not without imagination, at least.


    Until Ayre feeds me.


    And I¡¯ve come to hate the taste of blood.


    Hate that I must demand Ayre harm themselves and others dearest to them.


    Hate even more what I become when we go too long without feeding.


    But I can hear the steady thrum of Ayre¡¯s heart. Every quickening pace. Every skipped beat that prefaces doubts loud enough to deny our own existence.


    I can feel when something has changed or when Ayre has been hurt.


    It is only in the moments that Ayre floods their veins with my blood when I get glimpses of the physical circumstances that are arrayed against us.


    When we part, I am left only with time to think about what I notice while we are merged.


    What about Ayre has changed?


    Is changing.


    Glimpses of doubts and ideas on how they still plan to change.


    What Ayre is becoming is never far from my thoughts.


    I like to think I know better than my little sister does. They have so much more to worry about. When I am not needed, it is just me with all the time in the world to focus my worries inward.


    If being so deeply entwined with me is causing them to question whether they are a girl, I am terrified of what Ayre would do if they were privy to my every thought.


    Of the two of us, it is I who is rapidly deteriorating into monstrous thinking. Without opportunities to act to the contrary with a body, how am I to know the truth of the matter?


    To indulge our most violent impulses was fine when we were surrounded by nothing but enemies in the Vylian courts. It is what has kept us alive all this time.


    But I can¡¯t allow it here, even if it means smothering myself and how much I allow my thoughts and feelings to influence Ayre when we are joined.


    To that end, I have been trying to imagine a space for myself where I can just be the idealized me that Ayre remembers.


    A stone crafted dungeon cell forms my conception of the parasitic prison lodged into Ayre¡¯s heart. It¡¯s fitting. I never escaped the dungeons. Not like Ayre did.


    My only comforts are what Ayre experiences on my behalf. A wooden stump breaks through the stone flooring. It is not much, but it is not like there is any comfort offered by the chairs of Vylian courtly functions where we must constantly be on edge.


    Quaint touches of Cerya¡¯s began to furnish the cell the moment we fed on her. Faint blue glimmer stones light the space. A petal bed offers me a place to attempt to quiet my thoughts. And a mirror I am convinced doesn¡¯t work sits largely unused in the corner.


    What looks back at me is¡­ Never quite the same. Neither Princess nor Prince, but something more native to the Depths.


    The space isn¡¯t perfect.


    But it¡¯s what I have.


    It is the only place where I can imagine myself comfortable.


    Or at least it would be.


    Pain accompanies any removal from this place.


    I never know what to expect.


    Whether it is self inflicted or if Ayre needs their older sister to protect them.


    Whenever I am returned to the depths of my cell, it will be with fresh a craving for blood


    ***


    Ayre is torn from my grasp moments after they reach for me.


    Dragged to the front, I am left to fall to my knees and to stare down at my hands in disbelief.


    This is¡­ My body to move.


    It responds to my urge to breathe, my urge to rise to my feet, and my intent to retrieve a spear.


    I gaze up at the moon to find it has no sway over my thoughts.


    But when I wonder where Ayre has gone, my head grows loud with their voice.


    All at once I feel my grip on the spear tighten with an urge to discharge the implements at my belt to a murderous effect.


    I shut all these thoughts out and more.


    It grows quiet.


    And it does so with a suspicious lack of effort.


    Is this what allows Astraea to act as she does? To come and go in the night so long as someone else can fend off the moon? It¡¯s almost enough to consider hearing this Goddess¡¯s offer.


    But there can be no room to entertain such a thought.


    Not where entities of belief are concerned.


    And not while Ayre is suffering.


    Words from Snapdragon stir me into action. ¡°Ayre! We await your orders!¡±


    Immediately I come away with annoyance from hearing another¡¯s name leveled at me. I am not my little sister.


    But my little sister would not appreciate me ignoring the strain in Snapdragon¡¯s voice.


    Is she in pain or has she merely exerted herself in the confronting of her siblings?


    Only time will tell either way.


    No sense worrying when a confrontation with Astraea, Cinder Blights, and a wounded drake stand between us and finding out.


    Survive what is in front of us.


    Everything else can wait.


    ¡°Stand by then!¡± I call back, unnerved by hearing Ayre¡¯s voice instead of my own. Right. Not entirely my body.


    Any time I allow my thoughts to wander in Ayre¡¯s direction, I invite glimpses of what they planned to do, how they see what is unfolding, and why they are so fixated on the gems not being used.


    If I come away weakened from this encounter, our siblings will finish us off.


    Which means any wound will need to be balanced out by a feeding.


    If I can¡¯t bring about Ayre¡¯s desired end, I am to resolve this as a Vylian Prince would.


    Thankfully I seem to be in full control of my thoughts and movements.


    There is no need to bargain with the moon for a desired end. Not when Ayre can trust their older sister to take care of matters.


    Striding towards the drake and Astraea with my chin held high, I can almost picture what it is that the Castellan can see us becoming. To be able to stalk the night knowing that my mind is untouchable while everyone else lives in fear is a delicious thought.


    Or at least it would be, if I was not keenly aware of how everyone else in this instance includes Ayre. Their thoughts are going to become mine to wrestle with eventually.


    That just means I¡¯ll have to get this right. There can be no room for disappointing my little sister.


    Assuming my grasp of Ayre¡¯s fearful thoughts are correct, Astraea is right to be scared.


    She really is just the bodyguard.


    And not for much longer if this goes poorly for her.


    What is thicker than blood?


    Why should we care about the sources we feed on?


    What is it that would stir a goddess into preventing us from acting?


    There is a delight that drives me closer to tasting the answer to one of more of those questions.


    To the depths with Astraea if she intends to get in our way.


    I¡¯ll bite out her throat if I have to.


    And I won¡¯t regret it.


    Not if she hurt Cerya.


    There will be a place for Ayre¡¯s hopes when all is said and done. The seed has been sewn deeply into who Ayre is becoming that I dare not sway against them hoping all will be well.


    But for as long as I am in charge of handling things, carving out my own bloody ends in spite of the despair forced upon me is what I have always had to settle for.


    Why should that change?


    This body is not mine.


    Not entirely.


    I don¡¯t need a moon to convince me of my least favorable thoughts.


    My mother could not have been more clearer in her intent.


    Assuming the worst outcome, if it is to be me against every Cinder Blighted and Moon Wrought creature, it will just have to be me who comes out on top.


    Anything less would never have led to Ayre and I being considered for the position of Prince or Princess in the first place.

 Chapter 22 - Blood Stains my Hands and Smile

    Lenore


    We survive.


    For everyone we care for and who cares for us in turn.


    For the ever deeper understanding of who we are becoming.


    And for my little sister¡¯s fledgling hopes.


    None of it matters if we perish here.


    You¡¯ve got us this far.


    Allow me to push us through this night.


    No matter how this plays out¡­


    ¡­Remember that you are not to blame.


    Not for this.


    Not for my death at our brother¡¯s hands.


    Not for having to take care of Selescia in my stead.


    Nothing arrayed against us has ever been your fault.


    I know you still blame yourself.


    You can¡¯t hide it from me.


    And you won¡¯t be able to hide it from those who care.


    Not forever.


    Remember that none of this is fair.


    I wish I could communicate how much it hurts to have a one sided conversation.


    To not have you here, sharing in our choice of thoughts.


    To feel our words take new shape as they pass between the two of us.


    To settle for having to act without you.


    To not share in the despair you are drowning in, just out of my reach.


    Please.


    No matter how this night ends.


    Don¡¯t let anything hold you back.


    Not even me.


    If I am to be anything.


    Let me claim the monstrous role made for us.


    Call me the wretch for once.


    Spare me no end to the blame you would lay at my hands.


    Better this than I remain someone who hurt you.


    I feel an answer to the thoughts I offer to the sibling I share a body and heart with.


    It is a soundless scream coming from the other side of a door.


    A door I cannot open.


    Not as the division between us must be put from my mind as the drake turns its attention upon me.


    Its tail sweeps in a wide arc intending to catch Astraea and I in its path.


    With an exhaled breath, Astraea leaps into the air.


    Meanwhile I flash my fangs and embrace what comes.


    The tail catches me square in the chest, an intensity of pain beyond what I expected catching me off guard.


    I hold on tight, allowing the tail to take me off my feet. As soon as the momentum eases, I reach for the nearest cluster of gemstones, grip until it hurts, and tear it free.


    I am made to feel small.


    So young, insignificant in the face of those as old as the land itself.


    Am I so foolish to think I could resolve anything alone?


    To think I could understand everything in a single night?


    Or that this night¡¯s trials would end after a single drake?


    The stone is cast from my hands, blighted derision lingering long after the tourmaline absorbs what it can.


    It only takes me a moment to collect my thoughts.


    I may not have gotten what Ayre wanted, but what we needed is clear enough.


    My shout is loud and clear for the Thorned Watchers to hear.  ¡°The Drake is a distraction! Thorns! Cover the other wall!¡±


    Letting go of the tail causes me to go tumbling into silvered underbrush. Thorns and sharp leaves slice at my hands and cheeks. Thankfully the rest of me is covered in padded clothing.


    Armor will not do in this situation. Against something like this? I need to rely on my speed, strength, and capacity to mend my wounds.


    ¡°Ayre!¡± Astraea calls out, her words falling on ears deaf to her concerns.


    I am already lunging for the next blighted gemstone.


    Before too much blood is shed, I need to know if the stones are united in their unwillingness to negotiate.


    The drake aims to seize my head between its jaws, demanding I throw myself underneath the beast. Which is fine enough, there are at least two blighted stones jammed into the drake¡¯s legs.


    It takes rolling out from underneath either leg that rises with intent to crush or claw at me. But I manage to rise to my feet and pry another blighted gemstone loose.


    Blood drenches my fingers as doing so reopens a wretched wound.


    The time of what is ended might as well be immeasurable.


    All to grant a transient being another chance at life.


    We are but specks, and I am a flawed one at that.


    Cannot even grow without fracturing from my intended purpose.


    Pressure builds in my hands as I express my displeasure.


    Heat contained within the blighted stone rises to match, earning the Cinder part of their name. I hurl the blighted stone against another, dislodging yet a third stone from the drake¡¯s wing.


    Its cries take on desperation as it tries to put distance between Astraea and I.


    Both of us put trees between us and the next salvo of quills.


    ¡°What are you trying to accomplish?¡± Astraea calls out.


    I spare her a drop of my anger. ¡°What need have I for a blade to know my purpose?¡±


    She darts out from behind her tree first, smacking the third gemstone with the haft of her spear from where it landed on the ground.


    The blighted thing thuds against my tree and I seize it with impatience.


    This time I will Ayre¡¯s concerns into a pointed question. What is worth the losses sustained by attacking the fortifications of those who would destroy and subvert your purpose to their own ends?


    Their resonating answer comes in the form of a blinding brilliance that forces me to avert my gaze in the present.


    A lodestone worth protecting.


    A crystalline spire lost to the light.


    Now banished into darkness.


    One of the caves then?


    The stone grows hot, burning to the touch as it resonates in ways I am not meant to understand.


    I am left to grapple with the implications of knowing that they are capable of communicating. But they are choosing not to explain everything.


    Which is an answer in and of itself.


    ¡°Militant stone.¡± I say with bitter harshness as I discard my third foe.


    It takes a moment of focus to dedicate blood towards regrowing flesh and restoring nerves in my fingers. Delicate work, but it is almost instinctual, needing only my guidance and will.


    And blood of course.


    As evidenced by my softening of Ayre¡¯s chest, I¡¯m not always consistent in my work. This time the healing appears to have resulted in sharpened claws and thicker bones.


    I am still not sure where the instincts are coming from. But for now it is enough to exist as a source of strength and healing for Ayre.


    Thankfully Fia is not far off. I suspect I will need to feed once this is done.


    She¡¯ll need to be hidden away, afterwards. We can¡¯t afford her being vulnerable in view of our siblings.


    The world around me darkens as the light of the moon begins to fade.


    All eyes turn upwards as a cloud begins to block it from view.


    I becomes we.


    Our whole body trembles as Ayre¡¯s fears and doubts finally secure an outlet.


    Ayre


    This isn¡¯t enough.


    We should be doing more.


    Astraea¡¯s name dies in our throat.


    Can¡¯t say it.


    Won¡¯t.


    Not forgiving her.


    Not until we know Cerya is okay.


    How will we know if we don¡¯t ask her?


    Our head shakes in refusal.


    Okay.


    But will we continue to accept her help in fighting the drake?


    Thoughts spiral in our mind as we busy our hands. We scramble to slot the rest of our gemstones into implements, freeing the pouch at our belt to hold a Cinder Blighted stone.


    ¡°We don¡¯t want the drake dead. Free it from the stones.¡±


    We¡¯ll figure out what to do with them later.


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    If we don¡¯t tear them apart first.


    Calm, sister.


    We have to focus.


    The drake is distracted.


    ¡°Of course you would ask this of me.¡± Astraea says before turning to dislodge another blighted stone with a casual throw of a spear.


    The drake turns, shielding its other blighted stones even though we lack anything to throw and dislodge what we cannot reach.


    ¡°Thorns! We need one of you to be ready!¡± We shout as we run wide, intending to give any thorns who can take a shot a clear angle.


    The drake is heedless to our intent, lashing a tail at us as it turns and backs away.


    Just a little more.


    ¡°Now!¡±


    Two bolts are fired.


    Two blighted stones fall from the drake¡¯s flesh.


    A bolt punches through a leathery wing, burying a fourth stone mere strides away from where we stand.


    From the tower, Fia¡¯s voice cries in triumph. ¡°I helped Master Ayre!¡±


    That you did little Fia.


    Good girl.


    With a pained cry, the drake¡¯s head snaps in the direction of Fia¡¯s voice.


    We disregard the fallen stone and rush forward. Putting all my weight atop the midpoint of the beast¡¯s tail.


    It is not enough.


    Four quills fly in the direction of the tower.


    The first falls far short with the second going wide.


    The third strikes stone.


    But the fourth provokes a scream of pain and cries of distress.


    No.


    No no no no no.


    Not Fia.


    Anything but¡­


    Fine.


    If the moon wants blood.


    It can have it!


    Just not Fia¡¯s.


    We bite into scales.


    Enraged, we hammer down blows until the scales bend under the strength of everyone who has put their lives in our hands.


    Bloody fingers dig underneath, prying them loose.


    And then we bite.


    We bite and we tear chunks of meat free until the drake bleeds.


    We pay no heed to the rest of the fight.


    Our only concern is clinging to the tail and drinking our fill.


    We find clarity where we least expect it.


    In the blood of a fellow predator.


    We were right in the worst possible ways.


    The Cinder Blights are desperate.


    There are voices of reason to be found in stone. The drake¡¯s own memories and resonance with its captors confirm this. But it is not voices of reason who lay siege to Lunarian walls and bind other living creatures to their will.


    Not that waiting around for naturally occurring corpses could ever be enough to sustain a war effort.


    We withdraw our fangs in revulsion as the taste of stone mixes in with blood. Our mouth and heart burn with an intensity that outpaces the volume consumed.


    Immediately our gaze is drawn to Astraea. In defiance of its movements, she stands atop the moving drake, delicately retrieving a spear lodged in a wing in place of a blighted stone. She spares us a confident grin before leaping off the side to dislodge yet another stone from the drake¡¯s other leg.


    It collapses to the ground under all its weight and accrued wounds. Even the drake¡¯s pained cries begin to sound weak.


    At her feet, Astraea drops a number of other stones dislodged while we fed.


    We¡¯ll get no better opportunity than this.


    By our count, all that remains is a gemstone jammed into its neck.


    Astraea¡¯s head turns to the side, her confident grin replaced with an empty stare. ¡°Now that the threat to your life has been dealt with, and it seems all eyes are turned elsewhere¡­¡± She raises her spear in my direction. ¡°...You and I have unfinished business.¡±


    Beads of sweat actually drip from her forehead. Her breathing isn¡¯t as calm as it typically is. Between confronting Cerya and this drake, this is the first time we¡¯ve seen Astraea meaningfully exert herself.


    Both of us are covered in drake blood.


    Her heart races with unreadable emotions.


    Meanwhile ours has never felt so alive. We¡¯re practically thrumming with newfound energy and the thrill of resonating with the drake¡¯s many airborne hunts.


    Oh if we had wings of our own to soar, there would not be a thing Astraea could do to stop us from taking what we want.


    We take a deep breath, willing our heart to slow as we set aside any thought that assumes Astraea stands no chance against us. The drake¡¯s blood is too eager, and its blighted stones too arrogant. Regardless of cloud coverage, no moon holds sway over our actions here.


    All that stands between us and fulfilling our promise to Snapdragon is to confront our guardian and her goddess.


    She does not approach, choosing to confront us with words. ¡°Ayre. Please. I can make all of this stop.¡±


    We stride forward, paying no heed to anything she has to say.


    Her voice hardens. ¡°You will never be more Ayre or Lenore than you are right now.¡±


    It¡¯s already too late for that, we think.


    Our nostrils flare as our expression becomes one of contempt. Her words ring to us of a demand to lessen ourselves.


    Astraea lowers her spear the moment it becomes clear we have no intent of slowing our pace. ¡°Please. Just. Listen! You never have to see me again if that¡¯s what you want.¡±


    No.


    The moment we pass Astraea by, a hand grips our shoulder. Nails dig into flesh, heedless to the physical barrier that our quilted layers of clothing present.


    It is not Astraea¡¯s hand, but something that can barely be perceived.


    Her goddess¡¯s touch burns hotter than any blighted stone or open flame.


    It hurts like nothing we could imagine.


    And we have been through¡­ So. Much.


    There are moments of weakness expressed only in our journal and magnified in our dreams where we become aware of parts of our body that we no longer have.


    Somehow this is worse.


    It is like both bodies are attempting to reassert their existence despite sharing the same space.


    The pain, discomfort, and sense of wrongness is intense enough that there is almost no room for thought.


    We are, however, so very well versed in pain, discomfort, and our wretched existence that it does not take much to recall how to respond to the intervention of gods.


    Entities of faith must adhere to belief.


    And it is with an ironclad certainty that we want nothing to do with a goddess seeking to reach for what binds our shared body together.


    Our fangs sink deep into our lips as we exert ourselves. We reach for hands more real than our own, despite how less than tangible they might at first seem.


    We will not be fooled.


    They are very real. And the kind of harm they are capable of inflicting through the slightest of doubts leaves no room for error.


    For as much as we will never forgive our broodmother for subjecting us to the Depths and the merciless siblings of ours, it was done knowing that the gods would do far worse to us given the slightest opportunity.


    Did she think we wouldn¡¯t look for reasons why our life was so cruel?


    Did she think because we are young we wouldn¡¯t find answers?


    Surely not every sibling of ours faced the same cruelties as us. None of them were stitched together from the remains of their own sister!


    How many of the Castellan¡¯s children were taken in the early days as punishment for slaying a god?


    Nevermind twenty positions.


    The record of the Castellan¡¯s many children spans a number of pages that might as well have been penned in blood.


    Must we become a monster to ensure our own existence?


    Leave it to an outsider who doesn¡¯t know better to prove my mother right.


    We wanted to rely on others.


    Our questions become pointed accusations.


    Had we the stones to spare, we would stab them into the goddess¡¯s hands.


    Like Cerya already did in our defense.


    A snap of bone.


    Every step forward is just going to cost us more and more isn¡¯t it?


    One finger snaps backwards.


    At least we know that our worth is known by more than just our Dolls.


    A second.


    Of all those who claim to want to help us¡­


    Must we really discard our protector?


    Our Sworn Blade?


    The confidant we trusted despite being surrounded by vile siblings.


    Who even now we might have trusted had it not been for the machinations of some cruel god thing.


    Her grip is broken.


    But not before white hot pain shoots through our left shoulder.


    We open our mouth to scream, but the pain subsides as Lenore is the one to recoil away.


    I am left with urges to lash out with limbs I don¡¯t have. A quilled tail, wings that would carry me far from this place, and my own hands in place of Lenore¡¯s.


    Astraea at last closes the distance.


    She is far too late to be of any help to either side in a contest of wills and thoughts.


    ¡°To the very depths with whatever you would offer in exchange!¡± I shout, pulling my miserable excuse for a body away from Astraea¡¯s reach.


    I can still flex Lenore¡¯s hand, but the feelings are numb. I want to clench my fists, but I quickly realize that any movements come at the delay of an extra heartbeat or two for the arm connected to my left shoulder.


    Even Astraea¡¯s words register slower than watching her lips call out some plea I cannot connect with.


    ¡°Ayre.¡±


    Astraea holds herself at a distance, eyes and hands stretched wide in a placative manner.


    It takes me a moment to recognize Astraea¡¯s expression as horrified.


    A heartbeat.


    She¡¯s not going to touch me.


    I can breathe a little easier.


    Lenore¡¯s hand tightens belatedly into a fist.


    Astraea¡¯s voice becomes a desperate plea. ¡°This isn¡¯t how I wanted this to play out!¡±


    I bare my fangs, voice deepening as I say words that do not echo how I feel. ¡°Enlighten me then.¡±


    Until she finally says something that should resonate with us. ¡°She was never supposed to touch you!¡±


    My eyes narrow. ¡°It is too late for that now. Isn¡¯t it?¡±


    Astraea shoves away at something we can barely see over her shoulder, denying her own divine comforts. ¡°How long have I struggled to figure out what hurts you so that I can avoid causing you harm?¡±


    Her words cause me to ache in the same ways that the moon¡¯s exposure claws and stabs at my ability to focus. I throw my head back, fighting back the urge to express impatience, exasperation, or just¡­ Raw hatred. Against my better judgment, I humor her. ¡°For as long as you¡¯ve served me.¡±


    What else could she want me to say?


    Is there any version of me that would still be willing to listen?


    ¡°She should know better.¡± Astraea growls, a warning I take as not intended for me. ¡°Neither of us can redeem you if we do not care. I made it clear that this wasn¡¯t the way to approach you. But you¡¯re not listening to me either! She-¡± She must not like my reaction to her fishing for an excuse, as she quickly reaches for a more pleading tone. ¡°You don¡¯t have to suffer anymore! All of this can stop. Right here. Right now. If you¡¯ll just-¡±


    ¡°It serves her right.¡± I say with a snarl, still more focused on trying to time the flexing of Lenore¡¯s hand in heartbeats. The delay is getting shorter, but something still feels off. Am I really back to it not feeling like my hand? ¡°Whatever Cerya threw at you, I hope it hurt.¡±


    When I turn to meet Astraea¡¯s gaze, I find everything I expected to find. Guilt, pain, maybe even a hint of remorse.


    And I would be lying if I didn¡¯t derive some satisfaction from that fact.


    Astraea speaks with faltering conviction now, choosing to protect her Goddess¡¯s actions instead of me. ¡°Mine is the only Goddess willing to redeem you! This was¡­ Is your only chance.¡±


    "Redemption?¡± I let the blood drip carelessly from my mouth now. Too angry to care. ¡°As If I chose the depths! As if I chose to be the one who survived them! No you inconsiderate cunt, the only choices I have been allowed to make was how I care for my Dolls after my family made me into¡­ This! Wretched! Thing!¡±


    My chest heaves with a need to force more air into my lungs.


    All to support a body I don¡¯t have.


    Forcing out yet more words limits me to pained gasps. ¡°To think I exposed my throat to you. And these Seed Seers. Rather than bare fangs! Risked you or them tearing me apart. Because I just wanted¡­¡± I turn away, my last gasps no longer intended for her. ¡°A part of me wanted to trust again."


    Enough to risk trusting someone I shouldn¡¯t.


    And then I feel it. Something like the weight of an embrace bearing down against my heart. I can almost imagine the words Lenore would reach for.


    That I¡¯m worth it. Please believe that I am worth everything I have suffered and more.


    Never have I been willing to believe those words more than after breaking a goddess¡¯s hand.


    It is a deep and profound shame it doesn¡¯t feel like enough.


    By the time I feel like I can turn on Astraea, my words expel a newfound heat and intensity. "No wonder my mother and siblings hate your gods. You would wait until others have already torn us apart and left us to bleed before claiming we need redemption to be worth saving. Of course you waited until you earned my trust before cornering me with the idea that I belong on my knees. Does your redemption demand I finally start to believe there is a future where I am happy in this body? You and your vile god thing can keep whatever passes for redemption. We¡¯re not interested.¡±


    At that, I turn my back on my would-be protector. ¡°I''ll tend to my own scars rather than let her pluck at my wounds like a piece of carrion she can fashion into a trophy."


    By the time I close the distance with the dying drake, I know without needing to feed or commune that there is no saving this creature.


    I could try, but the drake and final blighted stone would both fight me in the attempt.


    So I decide to grant it one last exchange. Referring to the note handed to me by Theriya, I reach for the blood red garnet slotted into a sharpened implement.


    The drake¡¯s jaws open wide as I thrust a clawed hand deep into the soft tissues of the creature¡¯s upper mouth.


    Its death is swift.


    Any remaining pain is absorbed and numbed by the garnet. It is the least of what I feel like I can do. The blood of the Quill-tailed Drake is mine to claim.


    Our urge to drink the essence of another feels different now.


    Like I have earned this.


    A kill should not go to waste. I need nourishment to live, afterall.


    It is my strength that will define how much we can change our circumstances.


    To that end, is it not worth becoming absolutely everything I can?


    If Lenore wants to think of herself as a monster.


    I should accommodate her as well.


    So I drink enough for the two of us.


    And the last cinder blighted stone is broken off before being added to our pouch.


    We turn to find Astraea backing away from us.


    ¡°Don¡¯t come after us unless Cerya is with you.¡± We say, our voice unwilling to spare her any emotion.


    Where we now go, Astraea shows no intent to follow.


    The clouds pass on our way back, demanding Lenore take over.


    I am left once more to drown in the bloody depths of my own thoughts.


    In contrast to earlier in the night, it is not my thoughts that demand I act upon them, but those of the drake I just bled dry.


    Why should I need a moon to convince me to shed blood when I am among the apex predators of these lands?


    Whether it is true as a Quill-Tailed Drake or the Fourteenth of her Unholy Brood, I feel how easy it should be to force my own ends through a violence I would be unopposed in.


    Everyone else is lessened by violence.


    But me? I could be elevated by it.


    All I would need to do is discard my flimsy reasons for holding myself back and feed.


    If not on those I love and care for, then on all who would threaten them!


    The moment I am back under the shelter of the walls, Lenore leaves me to take all the time I need to regain a sense of myself.


    I am not my most unkind thoughts.


    I am allowed to just¡­ not be fine.


    It is not long before I find Snapdragon frantically trying to squeeze poison from a quill freshly removed from Fia¡¯s shoulder.


    First Thorn casts a furious gaze at me, revealing a wound that cuts along the side of her head. By my estimation, someone came close to driving a spear through her skull.


    I show no reaction even as I drink in the naked contempt that informs me I will be sharing in the blame. Regardless of what happened, I make a mental note to make it up for not being here to support Snapdragon directly.


    The First Thorn turns back to an open hatch, braces her bolt thrower against it, and fires off another bolt without a word.


    Depths.


    My life is never going to get easier, is it?


    There will need to be a discussion about how best to remove Snapdragon from the Thorned Watchers. But that will have to be a problem for later.


    Turning to Fia, I gesture for Snapdragon to give me space. ¡°Her poison is my responsibility.¡± I say with the weight of certainty I should not feel.


    Something feels off. But there is no time to interrogate it.


    So I drink from my doll.


    It is not a pleasant thing.


    Snapdragon revealed much in her confrontation with her siblings.


    Much like Astraea, the First Thorn reached for some other explanation or context beyond what was right in front of her.


    Like me, Snapdragon took issue with that.


    Circumstances escalated into brief and sudden violence.


    But Snapdragon asserted her truth.


    Out of everyone to not believe her, Fia siding with Snapdragon¡¯s siblings hurts me the most.


    I withdraw my fangs from Fia¡¯s flesh with tears in my eyes, quietly swallowing the poison I feel responsible for.


    And with it, a deeper understanding of my blood doll.


    Calling us Master comes from a need for our dynamic not to change anymore than it already has. Fia feels more out of place and helpless here in the Lunarian Grove than she ever did in the Vylian courts.


    We were constantly in danger, but we were nearly inseparable.


    Here? Fia worries I am becoming a stranger.


    And depths, she might be right to worry.


    How little time have I made for her while trying to secure our position in this grove?


    I look up from my most cherished doll to the sound of a door opening.


    The only response I can muster to Cerya meeting my gaze, whole and unharmed, while Astraea averts hers¡­


    ¡­Is to smile a sad smile.


    It is a pained expression that only communicates a deep relief in spite of a profound weariness of the heart and body.


    Cerya¡¯s smile matches my own.


    Everyone is alive.


    That will simply have to be enough.

 Chapter 23 - Favored Seed of a Waning Garden

    Theriya


    Maybe I should not have encouraged Amari to get too comfortable. Even if she can enjoy safety and privacy within my spire, her naked form is a constant distraction from my last minute preparations.


    As lovely as the last evening and night spent with this vulpine advisor has been, Amari is no replacement for my lost Seed Seer sisters. It took her no time at all to pluck out books that would be relevant to my needs despite a lack of familiarity with my library. I can only surmise that she is more than just well traveled but has a keen eye and good head on her shoulders.


    What I value most of all is that she has expressed a sensitivity to the loss I feel. That alone is enough to appreciate her company immensely.


    Cerya is sweet, but there is no replacing someone whose loss matches my own.


    Knowing that Amari¡¯s are under the grip of one of Ayre¡¯s siblings has motivated me to double down on the amount of time spent arming myself with knowledge I can only hope will be relevant.


    But books and a fox bending my ear can only take me so far.


    With Cerya¡¯s fate still unknown to me, the morning task of counting corpses and clearing Cinder Blight will demand my presence. While grateful for what little sleep Amari pressed me into taking for myself, I am uncertain if I can ever feel adequately prepared to address everything this day will demand of me.


    A Moon Wrought Crescent tipped staff curled around a Rose Quartz filled to the brim with my heaviest laments weighs as heavy on my heart as it does in the hand. Regrettably, Theriya¡¯s Mourning Retribution is the only design in my armory to contain a large enough gemstone to give a greater Vylian Noble pause.


    I can¡¯t exactly commit enough stones to arrange ritual binding circles wherever I please. My first night meeting Ayre was but a brief lapse of judgment I dare not risk repeating again. I can only buy so much time when dealing with a number of the Castellan¡¯s brood.


    Thankfully, preparation for times of war at least means I¡¯ll have a staff I can count on always having on hand.


    Onyx inlays spiral down the grip, with sister keystones embedded in a favored set of gloves. This is not the kind of Moon Wrought implement I can accept being pried from my hands.


    Holding it now with intent to protect Ayre and Cerya from the likes of Astraea and other Vylian siblings just feels¡­


    Right.


    I will never get to have my siblings back. Not like Ayre did.


    It does not mean I do not carry a piece of them with me, always.


    Not that I wish to expend it.


    If I can ward off the worst case scenario, Amari¡¯s kindness is something I intend to pay forward. Burying Ayre¡¯s siblings in ceremony and cultural obligations to prepare for the Binding Ceremony will mean securing Ayre and Cerya time to rest and recover from last night¡¯s ordeal.


    All of this assumes they are alive and well. Not that I can afford to be overtly fretful now that I have traded pleasant company for grim assurances immediately after leaving the safety of my tree spire.


    Casting a far longer shadow, Mel¡¯Viora joins me for a pleasant walk towards the edge of the grove. Where I descend from the youngest of the tree spires dedicated for Seed Seer purposes, Mel¡¯Viora parts deep and ancient roots as she rises from the grove¡¯s most fiercely guarded depths.


    We speak of familiar topics. Her role in deepening our alliance with the Castellan¡¯s eldest broodlings will soon demand her departure. But she will linger a while yet.


    Today is the day of my ceremonial binding to Ayre and Cerya.


    It is understandable that she would want to check in with her last remaining Seed Seer to show enough promise to rise to the height and status of Sapling. Cerya is much too young to be considered for such an honor, being nearly twenty eclipses younger than I. Although if Astraea were the one to ask, I would have to amend that to ten years.


    I tell my Grove Tender everything of the past few days, intentionally hiding no detail from Mel¡¯Viora.


    She critiques my maintaining a distance from working alongside Ayre, which is in and of itself a blessing. Losing as many sister seeds as I have makes this a forgivable miscalculation on my part, even if Mel¡¯Viora would never put it into words.


    Leaving Cerya to be the one to get close to Ayre means that I have precious little to reveal that would endanger them. Better that Cerya be the one to keep Ayre¡¯s secrets.


    Besides, the thrust of this conversation is intended to reveal everything I know and suspect of Astraea Wyrmsbane, faithful to the Goddess of Redemption.


    Lady Midnight.


    My reward for maintaining such openness with my Grove Tender comes in the form of recommended texts to follow up on from last night¡¯s research. If I suspect Lady Midnight will become a threat to my own personal stake in Ayre, Mel¡¯Viora expresses a willingness to share relevant material on Lady Midnight¡¯s own ascension from something wretched.


    To think, Lady Midnight might have risen from abyssal depths deeper than Ayre¡¯s own circumstances. Not that there is much value in comparing beyond understanding why she might look upon Ayre with favor.


    The idea that I might soon be armed with enough information to drag a Goddess of Redemption into confronting her own wretched past delights me in the same manner of studying a new kind of blight. Cinder Blight¡¯s effects on the living and dead inspired Theriya¡¯s Mourning Retribution, afterall.


    I also come away with reassurance that if Astraea stands in my way in a more immediate fashion, I will have the direct support of someone as invested in Ayre as I am.


    I will just have to remember to warn Ayre that Mel¡¯Viora taking a personal interest in their development has a tendency to be unhealthy to say the least. But that is something to worry about in the future.


    Better now I take precautions to ensure Ayre and Cerya remain mine and risk upsetting them than risk allowing a divine enemy of ours to twist either of them into a purpose and role antithetical to my own.


    I can¡¯t risk a misalignment of purpose, not if we are to be bound together.


    The first corpse from last night¡¯s Full Moon comes into view long before we reach the gate. It being the corpse of a sizable drake gives the many Lunarian Seedlings steadily showing up for the morning tasks an understandable pause.


    Having claimed responsibility for arranging who guarded the walls, I seize the initiative in being the first to approach the drake¡¯s corpse. ¡°Well, we¡¯re off to an impressive start.¡±


    Mel¡¯Viora cracks a smile as we draw close enough to make out the details. The drake¡¯s corpse carves a long path of having clearly been dragged within the walls of the grove. It also appears to be desiccated to some extent.


    ¡°This is indeed an admirable specimen.¡± She claims in agreement, expressing a mirth she would not reserve for a lesser Seer.


    But to have her favor is a very public thing.


    My four arms mark me as someone willing to take on ever more than expected of me. Even if those changes were accepted in the hopes that I could ease the burdens on all my sister Seers who came before Cerya.


    With their passing, I found myself left with the expectation that I continue to carry more than my own personal burdens. They were, afterall, burdens Mel¡¯Viora knew I could handle.


    Standing now in front of the corpse of a drake that seems to have been drained of blood and liquids paints a startlingly clear picture of what Ayre is already capable of on their own. The position Ayre and I are in, quickly proving that we can handle terrifying burdens with minimal support, is not an enviable one.


    What will they demand of Ayre and I once we are bound together?


    My gaze turns to assess the stone gates to the grove. Open, but only wide enough to accommodate a person or two.


    At my direction, four Bitterbloom Watchers approach the gate. A series of gestures unique to this young and inventive planting is communicated to the Watcher at my side.


    Eighth Bitterbloom reports that the gates show no sign of being damaged by the drake, which is a good sign.


    Next comes sighting of someone standing alone outside the gates, armed only with a spear.


    ¡°Their skin. Is it pale or lilac?¡± I ask, hoping to narrow it down. If it were one of ours, they would have said so. There are only so many Watchers young enough to be considered undistinguished Seedlings in our grove.


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Gestures are exchanged.


    Eighth Bitterbloom interprets the reply. ¡°Lilac. Horns. Spotted us. Vylian salute.¡±


    ¡°That would be Astraea Wyrmsbane.¡± I say, my voice matching physical traits to their natural conclusion. No need to bring emotions into this.


    ¡°Wyrmsbane.¡± Eighth Bitterbloom intones, turning her gaze to the corpse of the drake.


    Mel¡¯Viora makes a purring noise as she lifts the drake¡¯s head enough to allow for a closer inspection. ¡°And yet I suspect our little Ayre is responsible for this one.¡±


    I turn away from the Watchers, giving them the okay to proceed outside without us.


    If Astraea is the only one the Watchers have spotted outside the walls, maybe I can hope.


    My heart aches at the idea of filling the Spire that once held a number of dear sisters with all whom Ayre has brought with them.


    None of them can replace what was taken from me.


    And yet Cerya has planted a seed that is beginning to sprout the more I come to understand the circumstances of where Ayre and Amari come from. I am left to accept my little Cerya¡¯s impulse to nurture what seeds are available to us.


    Maybe she is right. Maybe our Verdant Spire has been silent for too long.


    Cerya claims that Ayre wilts in their role of Prince in similar ways that Snapdragon will never blossom as a Watcher. Maybe I can be the one to turn my practiced eye as a stone cutter and scholar towards securing us a lasting position in the eyes of our betters.


    Would it not make sense for me to continue to distinguish myself as someone who can cultivate the most favorable means for those who have already decided my ends? For every reservation I have with satisfying everything Mel¡¯Viora could possibly expect of me, there are advantages to cultivating my place in her good graces.


    I have already learned the hard way that sometimes it is best to accept any easing of my burdens that are offered. If that means indebting myself to Mel¡¯Viora to make my enemies hers, then so be it.


    The least I can do is leverage everything I have already suffered through into meaning something to the only sister I have left.


    Looking back, if I had neglected to show Cerya the love I shared for my lost sisters, would Cerya have ever even been considered for being bound along with Ayre and I? If I am to assume that care and thought went into this binding, and it is hard to ignore how well we fit together in my mind, Cerya¡¯s inclusion strikes me as a concession of some kind. She has bonded well with Ayre. Enough so that I can¡¯t tell if the concession has been made for me or the both of us.


    I shudder to think of what would happen if being alone in my binding to Ayre would have left her to be alone to guide a fresh planting of Seed Seers in my absence. How long would it take for her to experience the same losses that I have?


    My worries clarify my purpose in the moments to come.


    Eighth Bitterbloom finishes circling around the drake¡¯s corpse. ¡°It has already been picked clean of Cinder Blight.¡±


    Having tracked the wounds as Eighth points them out, I offer my own thoughts. ¡°None of these would maim, nevermind kill.¡±


    ¡°And yet.¡± Mel¡¯Viora draws attention to a spot at the base of the drake''s throat.


    Unlike the others, this wound displays intense signs of ripped flesh beyond what a spear or bolt thrower would be designed to inflict. More dried blood stains this wound than any other.


    The good news is that Ayre likely won¡¯t be needing to feed anytime soon. As well read as I am on what we know of the Blood Hunger, I fear for the kind of drastic and sudden changes Ayre is likely to go through as a result of drinking so much of this drake.


    Maybe I should have been here. But to do so would mean falling behind in the quota of Moon Wrought Implements I am expected to craft every night.


    ¡°Ahhhh.¡± Mel¡¯Viora makes another sound to signal her interest. She stares now into the opened jaw of the drake. ¡±That would certainly do it. She nearly sticks her head inside the drake¡¯s mouth to get a better look. ¡°Too small for a spear or blade. Perhaps a pointed implement? And yet I feel nothing. Most curious.¡±


    ¡°Grove Tender?¡± Eighth Bitterbloom moves to help support the weight of the drake¡¯s neck.


    Immediately, Mel¡¯Viora withdraws away from the corpse. She lets it fall with a cracking of bone and utter lack of regard to how much the Watcher struggles to support the weight. She turns to me instead with a morose fascination. ¡°If anything the skull is an emotional dead zone, devoid of even the lingering traces left by the dead and dying. Nevermind the suffering of a Blighted creature.¡±


    Curious.


    Something would linger if an implement were discharged.


    ¡°An implement used to stab and absorb the dying resonance then.¡± I say, thoughts racing towards what need Ayre would have to not only kill but drain a drake of both its life essence and emotional resonance.


    Could I be missing something?


    Has maintaining an emotional distance from Ayre denied me an insight into who they are at their core?


    Why preserve so much of this drake in stone and blood?


    The tone of Mel¡¯Viora¡¯s conclusion is hard to read. ¡°If this is Ayre¡¯s work, they wasted precious little.¡± She turns to the larger gathering of less perceptive Lunarians than the Watchers, mostly a bunch of Shapers and Cullers. ¡°Get to harvesting this one. Take your time with it. Waste no more than what is already ruined.¡±


    The logistics of delegation follows, with a number of Firsts among their plantings drawing upon the Eighth Bitterbloom¡¯s perceptiveness to assess the state of the corpse.


    Mel¡¯Viora and I begin to make our way to the gate, leaving this under the supervision of another Seer. Sapling Eluned, I think? I am not as close to her as Cerya is.


    That she was bound to the previous Fourteenth Prince is the only trait of hers that marks her as someone of importance in my mind.


    As we near the gate, Mel¡¯Viora¡¯s voice grows rich with approval. ¡°Assuming your bound still lives, I will see to it that Ayre reaps the spoils of their kill.¡±


    I turn to meet her gaze, curious as to why she seems to be in such good spirits. Informing me, instead of Ayre themselves, suggests that she is already satisfied with the state of last night¡¯s Full Moon.


    I had thought I might need her to confront Astraea, but if she is just patiently waiting outside with no Ayre or Cerya in sight, maybe all I need to do is play out my expected role. ¡°I¡¯ll see to it that the final count and a recounting of the night¡¯s events makes its way to you. That and ensuring Ayre understands the weight of the favor you are expressing.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± Mel¡¯Viora intones. ¡°While you are at it, assure Snapdragon that I intend to hold to the word of my offer. Better it comes from you than me, I should think.¡±


    I freeze in spite of myself, prompting another crack of a smile to split Mel¡¯Viora¡¯s lips at the use of Snapdragon¡¯s chosen name.


    Mel¡¯Viora¡¯s tone lightens as her words become a surprise lighthearted lecture. ¡°You¡¯ve missed much I think, locked away in your spire hoping to find what few answers hide in ink. If this binding gets you to leave your nest more often, I will know that I have secured a good match for you.¡±


    I tighten my lips as Mel¡¯Viora makes light of the reason for my studies.


    How many of my sisters have died when faced with unknown threats?


    ¡°Thank you, Grove Tender Mel¡¯Viora.¡± I say, not trusting myself to deliver anything more than a stiffened reply.


    By comparison, it is Mel¡¯Viora whose wooden flesh moves with an unnatural grace. No need for bracing is required as she throws open wide the great stone gates of the grove. She does not turn to face me, merely delivering her final words aloud for all to hear.


    ¡°Survive Ayre¡¯s elder broodlings and I won¡¯t even wait for your Sixtieth Eclipse. You¡¯ve the makings of a most Erudite Sapling Seer. What others can do with your guidance is beyond question. If only you¡¯d apply yourself more in the flesh.¡± Her words linger as her form approaches the treeline.


    I am left to respond to having all eyes of the Bitterbloom Watchers fall upon me.


    My gaze turns from Mel¡¯Viora to the eight piles of corpses sitting outside the grove¡¯s gates.


    Someone has already found the time and energy to do our work for us, it seems.


    I spread two of my hands in a gesture to the nearest pile of corpses. ¡°Just because someone has already started our work does not change what is expected of us. Let us see it done.¡± My other hands withdraw onyx gem slotted gloves from my robe. I slide my fingers into something that will protect me from unnecessary risks that arise from handling corpses. The onyx keystones will call my staff to me in case my confrontation with Astraea goes awry.


    Having to divide my attention in a number of directions is of no trouble.


    Stones must be gathered and sorted.


    Watchers must be directed.


    All while a wary eye watches for any sudden movement from Astraea or the corpses we are picking through. I have grown quite used to dividing my attention in entirely too many directions.


    Astraea remains perched by the furthest pile of corpses, seemingly uninterested in anything that has unfolded. Her attention remains fixed upon a corpse at the base of her pile.


    A scythed limb begins to twitch.


    Almost immediately she buries a spear into the offending appendage. With a twist and a flick, the spear dislodges a glimmering Cinder Blighted stone from between two connective ligaments.


    The corpse stills.


    I resume my counting.


    Astraea and I keep our distance.


    Has this woman harmed my sister?


    Has her Lady Midnight so much as laid a hand on Ayre?


    Now that it is morning, Astraea is as out of her element and exhausted as I am likely to encounter her. If there are better circumstances to threaten her or make demands, I cannot think of them.


    And yet I doubt I would be comfortable with the resource expenditure that would be required to kill half as many of the corpses that lay at my feet. Using implements as Cerya and I do costs no shortage of time and emotional drain to replace.


    It is only as my count nears one hundred and fifty corpses that I have cause enough to approach the eighth pile Astraea remains vigilant over.


    ¡°Wyrmsbane.¡± I say, deciding to address her formally.


    ¡°Seed Seer.¡± She replies, not meeting my eyes.


    We both stand in silence.


    ¡°One hundred and seventy six.¡± I say, marking the back of my glove with a charred stone for later reference. ¡°Dare I ask if there are more corpses than the ones gathered here?¡±


    Astraea shakes her head. ¡°No. Ayre and I¡­ we started early.¡±


    ¡°While the moon was still out?¡± I ask, my tone dubious under the weight of how casually she writes off the single most world changing event that my people are named for.


    The woman who has shed much of her onyx armor, sitting atop it in a heap instead of porting it away via keystone, sighs before finally turning to regard me with tired eyes. ¡°Do you really care about such details? I would prefer if you skip to demanding what you actually want from me.¡±


    To rend her and every trace of the emotional resonance from existence if she harmed my sister.


    I settle for flattening my antennae, eyebrows, and voice in annoyance. ¡°To know the number of dead and living. To form a reliable recounting of the night. And as is my role, bleed any remaining resonance¡­¡±


    She interrupts me with a glare. ¡°Not what I asked.¡±


    Six different stones alight at my hip and around my armlets, swallowing a mixture of intensely felt emotions in response.


    I will myself to calm, seeking grounding in sound principles as has been drilled into me by an elder Seer.


    Knowledge is precious.


    The living can be held up as an ever changing resource.


    While the dead can scarcely give a single historical recounting.


    Patience and persistence will reveal much.


    ¡°What I want, Lady Wyrmsbane, is to return to my tower and smother the grief I carry knowing that Ayre and Cerya have not been added to those I have lost. It is not enough that I spend each night pouring myself into stones and our library to try to gain a better understanding of the threats arrayed against me and mine. What I need from you, is to not give me reason to waste resources on someone whose role should mark them as an ally. Not a-¡±


    Again I am interrupted.


    This time with a flaring of nostrils, disciplined display of smothering of her own emotional reactions, and a stiff gauntleted gesture to the corner tower. ¡°Of course they are alive and intact. I¡¯ll spare you my recounting until you¡¯re more willing to hear it. Interrogate me last if you must.¡±


    ¡°Oh I intend to.¡± I say, planting my staff firmly into the ground before orienting it in her direction. ¡°But I need some assurance that you¡¯re not a threat.¡±


    Astraea¡¯s lips tighten. ¡°I¡¯ve a promise to keep to Amari. Once that¡¯s done, I imagine Ayre will never want to see me again. If that¡¯s the way Ayre and you Seers want it, I¡¯ll not be a problem for long.¡±


    My held breath is released at the mention of Amari¡¯s name.


    A single Quartz stone resonates with a sense of loss. Whether it is Astraea¡¯s or my own, I¡¯m unwilling to speculate.


    ¡°In that case, carry on whatever it is you¡¯re doing out here.¡± I say, taking great care not to show my back to the spear wielding adherent to Lady Midnight.


    ¡°Giving Ayre space.¡± Are all the parting words Astraea leaves me to dwell on.

 Chapter 24 - A Most Desired Princess

    Theriya


    I am the first of the morning arrivals to set foot inside the grove¡¯s outer walls. Seeing the Second Thorned Watcher on hand to greet me is well within expectations.


    For being one of only so few on hand to guard the walls, he appears remarkably untouched. It is a good start, but best I stick to what is expected of me while the Eighth Bitterbloom remains close at hand.


    ¡°Any casualties?¡± I ask.


    ¡°No. Seed Seer Theriya.¡± Second says, keeping his report brief.


    Still too early to feel like I can release a held breath.


    I turn to the Eighth Bitterbloom Watcher. ¡°I¡¯m inclined to take Second at his word.¡±


    ¡°So long as you don¡¯t make the mistake of valuing anything else of his.¡± Eighth says with a sneer.


    Second, for his part, maintains a blank stare.


    ¡°Nothing? You Thorrns are no fun.¡± Eighth¡¯s sneer fades as the Second Thorn resumes his task of wiping blood from the tips of javelins.


    My accompanying Watcher rests on her spear, no longer alert to the possibility of anything hostile within the walls. A twirl of the finger through her golden locks of hair does not go unnoticed. I take it to mean she would much rather be with the rest of the Bitterblooms.


    Understandable, knowing they are all outside the walls while she is stuck accompanying me to investigate the fate of the Thorns. Best I give her an out then. I¡¯d prefer the kind of conversations that are to follow be kept private.


    ¡°I think I can take it from here, Eighth Bitterbloom.¡± I say, busying myself with double checking the Second Thorn¡¯s work.


    ¡°If you are certain, Seed Seer.¡± Eighth says, unable to hide the light of interest returning to her eyes.


    My students are so easy to read. I wonder if it is like this with Cerya and the Thorns. ¡°If I have need of you, I will be sure to call out or send a Thorn.¡±


    ¡°It will be as you say, Seed Seer Theriya.¡± She says, sounding thankful.


    And with that, the Eighth Bitterbloom departs.


    The attention of most Lunarians remains split between picking through the aftermath of last night while Watchers remain on guard for stray animals still afflicted by the Moon or Cinder Blight.


    Second Thorn¡¯s shoulders shift as he sets aside his mind numbing task for something more important. Breath swells into his lungs and chest as he readies himself to give a recounting of the night.


    I cut him off, turning to begin making my way towards the tower. ¡°Astraea and I have already had words. Fill me in on everything else.¡±


    When he does not immediately fall in step beside me, I know that something is wrong.


    ¡°Did she claim responsibility?¡± He asks, a suspicious hesitation creeping into his voice.


    At that I turn on him. My words are pointed. ¡°Responsibility for what, exactly?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take that as a no.¡± Frustration grips the Second Thorn, but he falls in line. ¡°My understanding of the situation is that she was Ayre¡¯s Sworn Blade.¡±


    ¡°Elaborate.¡± I say.


    He does. ¡°I don¡¯t know what allows Ayre and Lady Wyrmsbane to act under the moonlight, but Ayre was left to confront the bulk of the enemy force, alone. If you asked me, I would warn you that there is a dangerous amount of animosity between the two of them. Even when Lady Wyrmsbane acted to protect Ayre, I swear to you that animosity only grew.¡±


    ¡°She did say she was giving Ayre space.¡± I supply, curious as to how Second will react.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t a training ground.¡± Second says with clenched fists. ¡°I can forgive harsh teaching methods if they get results. But the utter lack of willingness to support one another on a field of battle where circumstances can change at any moment is unacceptable.¡±


    ¡°I will be sure to bring it up when I speak to the both of them next.¡±


    Second relaxes a touch, seeming content to know someone else will address it. ¡°To Ayre¡¯s credit, they could handle what multiple plantings working together could not. None of that means they should have to. Not if Lady Wyrmsbane is half as capable as they are, if not more so.¡±


    Impressive, especially when I doubt any combination of the Thorns, Howlers, and Bitterblooms could work together for any length of time.


    What is Astraea¡¯s angle?


    Did she make the call that Ayre would work best if she stayed out of their way?


    Or does she just want us desperate enough to give her Goddess a chance?


    Goddess of Redemption, the stroke of Midnight. A patron to the outcast and disfavored.


    If the Astraea¡¯s Goddess found a moment of vulnerability, my capacity to help Ayre may be time sensitive. Depending on what Ayre needs, I may need to clear out the Thorns.


    Or, I suppose I could bind them to our cause.


    Cerya and Snapdragon would appreciate that.


    I can¡¯t make a choice if I don¡¯t know what state everyone is in. Need to at least get eyes on everyone.


    Nearing the tower, my antennae stand on end. The lingering resonance of intensely felt emotions is palpable. Every stone in my possession drinks its fill, leaving me to decide whether it is worth shooting Second a look.


    Caring about the emotions of others is just a blind spot I¡¯m going to have to accept with him, isn¡¯t it?


    I enter, finding the rest of the Thorns arranged about the tower''s base.


    Stepping between Snapdragon and First, my first thought is how there is not a single weapon within reach of anyone here.


    Interesting, considering last night¡¯s responsibilities.


    I decide to not demand formalities, instead reaching for a gentle voice. ¡°Does anyone need my attention?¡±


    My gaze sweeps over the First thorn before anyone else. She is halfway through swapping out fresh dressings, revealing a wound running the length of her head that has been recently shaved clean of hair.


    Immediately she begins to shake her head. ¡°I am not currently claiming responsibility for any of the Thorns.¡±


    I turn instead to Snapdragon, seated by the stairs headed up. Her arms remained crossed in front of her legs, a curled up position typically signaling that she is not interested in talking.


    And yet she speaks all the same. ¡°Ayre probably needs you more. We¡¯re fine here.¡±


    Fine.


    Not okay.


    Before I make my way to the stairs, I spare a look at the Seedling formerly considered Nineteenth among their number. Fresh tears fall from his eyes. ¡°I¡¯m okay.¡± He says, his voice weak as he smiles in spite of himself.


    Clear evidence of wounds line his arms and one leg.


    Not typically what I would consider okay. But if he is comfortable expressing the kind of vulnerability typically reserved for when a seedling is only in the company of their own planting, I¡¯m inclined to believe him.


    There is a lingering tension in this room. And yet Nineteen strikes me as grateful to even be here among those who recently expelled him from their number.


    I decide to pose the question I have towards the former Nineteenth Thorn. ¡°Tell me this much at least. Has my sister largely led in taking care of things?¡±


    He nods.


    Such an answer frees me up to act as Theriya, and not as the role of Seed Seer.


    ¡°Good. I¡¯m proud of all of you. None of you were required to be here tonight. I know how much the Thorns have bled for this grove. But Ayre asked, and the four of you answered. I want to make it clear that you have earned my favor. Rest now, but keep up the good work.¡± I nod, satisfied with the reactions I get from the assembled watchers.


    Nineteen¡¯s most of all. The relief that floods his features is hard to ignore. ¡°Thank you, Seed Seer Theriya. Your words are kind. Gentle even.¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°To be gentle is a privilege reserved for those who have already secured a place within circumstances of secured abundance.¡± I remark, careful to not show my hand too quickly. ¡°That we can rest easy is something purchased with the time spent and blood shed by those who watch the walls. If you were not already aware, I am to be elevated to Sapling Seer soon. It is long overdue that I begin to consider which Seedlings I most wish to serve the grove at my side as my personal branches of authority.¡±


    My words earn me looks of surprise and interest from the First and Second Thorns.


    Only a Sapling Seer can declare other Seedlings worthy of rising to the rank of Sapling by laying claim to them. If Ayre is to be mine, then it is expected that I will claim a planting of the Watchers.


    Most would likely assume I would claim the Bitterblooms for myself, having been the one to shape their understanding of their place in the grove. It is only those few who know me who would be confident that I am more likely to claim the Thorns on Cerya¡¯s behalf.


    Twenty eclipses is a long time for Cerya to wait before her own promotion. It is far more likely that any Seeds I do not claim will feel a need to try their luck at finding another grove where they are more needed.


    Better that than wait for an entire planting of new Seed Seers to survive to the point of being entrusted with any real power or responsibilities.


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    All of this only earns me a shrug of Nineteenth¡¯s shoulders. ¡°Ayre asked no more of me than I am used to giving. Thir-, I mean Snapdragon, took on any animosity that might have otherwise been directed at me. Really, I was just happy to help.¡±


    Interesting.


    A name kept to the privacy of our tree spire so openly shared in front of the rest of the Thorns without any hint of hesitation.


    Mel¡¯Viora is right.


    I¡¯ve missed too much of how this situation has changed.


    The tension in the room earns a reassessment.


    I¡¯ve seen the side of First¡¯s face. Blood has already been shed, and yet a decision has been made to remove weapons from the room.


    Not that they will be likely to need them at short notice anymore.


    Snapdragon is probably right. Things are likely to be fine for the short term. Any potential for a growing rift within the Thorns will have to be considered. If it is something that they themselves can mend, they will definitely be my first choice.


    I don¡¯t need the best.


    I need Watchers who are willing to work alongside Ayre. And so far the Thorns are the only ones who have. Between last night and the altercations with the Howling Watchers, I suppose there is no hiding what Ayre is capable of now.


    But what does Ayre think?


    Especially now that they have shed blood alongside their number.


    I ascend the stairs.


    One does not just kill the likes of an adult drake and have others stop considering them an unproven Seedling.


    Last night¡¯s body count is the kind of moment that secures Ayre a title and affords them more than mere privileges.


    It is growing ever more likely in my mind that our binding is going to end with Ayre and I having power and expectations thrust upon us in the hopes that we continue to take lives in the name of Vylia and Lunaria.


    The ever present weight of lingering resonance grows more intense as I cross the second floor of the tower and near the third.


    Barrels upon barrels of Cinder Blighted gemstones cast the third floor of the tower in a wide palette of glimmering colors.


    My gaze is immediately drawn to movement.


    A blighted gemstone cast to the side with impatience by a hand I barely recognize.


    Pointed nails extend from pallid fingers. Gaunt flesh clings tightly to pronounced bones of a hand that has changed in more ways than one.


    The dark scales at the back of the hand that catch the light is what my gaze lingers on the longest.


    A more familiar pair of hands belonging to a younger Seer busies themselves bundling it up the caught stone in a handful of rags. It is gently aside, before a new strip of cloth is torn and reaches out to catch the next.


    I find myself rooted in place as I watch, transfixed upon the unfolding scene.


    Three stones later, I hear a growl more bestial in quality than anything else.


    Cerya¡¯s hands reach out. Tender caresses against rough scales that glint in the light of the most Cinder Blighted gemstones I have ever seen in one place.


    Her fingers linger on blackened scales.


    So unlike the brown ones adorning the Quill-tailed Drake.


    Now that I know to look for them, I can¡¯t stop seeing them. They are small, but very noticeable in how they catch the light. It certainly helps that Ayre has stripped down to the waist to clean off the worst of the blood and gore.


    I am left with a clear view of how the back of the hands, outer arms, and upper back have the tightest concentration of growths. Even if many of the scales have not begun to break through the flesh, I can already make out the ridged texture of where they will next sprout.


    Oh Ayre.


    Am I too late?


    Cerya turns toward her Princess. She reaches out to cup Ayre¡¯s face in hand and draw them away from their grim task. Carefully, their foreheads touch as the two of them find comfort in each other¡¯s presence.


    Eventually, Cerya¡¯s lips begin to move. ¡°Whenever you¡¯re ready, I think Theriya would like to speak with you.¡±


    Ayre¡¯s eyes snap open, pupils no longer perfectly round but slightly pointed at the top and bottom. They turn to me, revealing scales that frame the entirety of their face in the space between hair and flesh.


    There will be no hiding those beneath clothing.


    Ayre¡¯s gaze snaps to my side, breaking my focus.


    It seems I have failed to realize that we are not the only three in the room.


    Snapdragon closes the door behind me without another word. She offers me an apologetic smile for distracting me from the moment.


    At the far end of the room, Fia looks up from various clothing turned into makeshift bedding.


    Ayre¡¯s first words are delicate. ¡°I know which cave they¡¯re coming from.¡±


    I shake my head, not caring about the Cinder Blights. ¡°That can wait. How are you feeling?¡±


    They pause, not expecting the change of topic.


    It takes Ayre a moment, but their response comes in the form of a need to clutch at their own arms. This prompts Cerya to pull them into an embrace.


    Ayre leans into it, but their focus remains on me. ¡°As well as can be expected. Which is to say not well at all. But I¡¯m trying to make the best of it.¡±


    I fumble for words. What can I even say to that?


    Snapdragon and I put them in this situation. Not that we should blame ourselves for everything. How much can I really be expected to foresee?


    ¡°Full Moons tend to be the roughest.¡± I say, deciding to test the waters by spelling out for the obvious.


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Ayre says in somber agreement. ¡°The girls have helped me ground myself at least. Although Cerya assured me you¡¯re better at this than she is.¡±


    Ah.


    No pressure.


    Looking around the room only serves to provide more uncomfortable topics to raise.


    I very pointedly avoid asking about the bloody scales that lay on the floor beside Fia, gathered up into a small pile.


    Everything that feels natural for me to want to say in this moment dies before it can reach my throat. There is no experience that would prepare me for this better than anyone else.


    Only an accumulation of wounds that linger long after any physical scar would fade supply me with the words that taste right on my lips.


    ¡°I cannot promise you this will ever get easier.¡± I say, my four hands fretting uselessly in the direction of the many Cinder Blighted stones, despite the gloves that would protect me from direct contact. ¡°I¡¯m not someone who has the answers that will fix anything. Truthfully? I¡¯m just the Seer among my peers who is left.¡±


    Cerya shrinks ever so slightly behind Ayre. ¡°Please. I don¡¯t think either of you will be served by being hard on yourselves.¡±


    Meanwhile Ayre just laughs. It is a sickly thing that ends in a coughing fit unpleasant enough for Snapdragon to reach for one of my hands.


    ¡°I can offer comfort.¡± I say, taking Snapdrragon¡¯s hand by lacing my fingers between hers and squeezing tightly. ¡°But everyone here has comfort to spare.¡±


    Eventually Ayre can reliably will enough air into their lungs to voice a reply. ¡°Comfort and reassurance are one thing. But every time I think I am certain of my place, I get a reminder of how little I know. I can¡¯t fix everything, no matter how hard I try.¡±


    I offer a stiff smile as my gaze wanders to little Fia. ¡°Is that really so bad? Is the time spent not made all the more precious knowing our most precious bonds might never last?¡± I turn back to Ayre, their expression resonating with my own as remorse burns to fuel a fearsome determination. ¡°You and I know that things can be better. And not just for us, but those we care about.¡±


    Fia finds her voice, taking on its own kind of fierceness. ¡°This one doesn¡¯t ask for much. What if this one makes the mistake of asking for unnecessary risks? The kinds of futures on offer are always bargains that cannot be trusted or are arranged without our knowledge or input.¡±


    What I half expect to make Ayre wince only causes them to look upon their doll with a hesitant sense of pride. ¡°But you know I intend to keep living, right? No matter how much it hurts. Or how much things are going to have to change.¡±


    How long ago was it when I convinced myself that four hands would let me achieve more at once?


    Surely antennae would grant me the capacity to be sensitive to threats while Snapdragon dulls her own senses.


    But what of the times I spent too much of myself and could offer nothing?


    As if sensing my thoughts, Snapdragon squeezes my hand to draw my attention. ¡°Overburdening one¡¯s self can deal with short term problems, but no single one of us can be relied upon to handle everything. Not Ayre. Certainly not you, no matter how many implements you bleed emotions and press into the hands of the willing.¡±


    I find myself responding with a smile that does little to hide my guilt.


    Individuals can only do so much.


    Even Mel¡¯Viora needs to tend a grove to achieve her vision.


    The Castellan herself spawns far more broodlings than are needed to manage her conquered territories.


    Why should Ayre and Lenore feel compelled to shoulder all our burdens alone?


    Even if it does endear me to them in some small ways¡­


    I am bound to them either way.


    Ayre pulls away from Cerya¡¯s embrace.


    It does not excuse my first impulse upon meeting them being to bind them against their will for merely being something that frightened me.


    Nor does it excuse my first attempt at assisting them in the form of crafting implements that could harm them as much as it would help them without their knowledge or approval.


    After draining an entire drake and assessing the state of over a hundred corpses broken by their hands, I worry for them. Ayre has changed in ways both distressingly tangible and unpredictable.


    What little I offered last night is made meager by comparison. The kinds of bodily transformation known to me tend to be slow, familiar, and unlike whatever Ayre is going through.


    Nothing about this is ideal, but we are who we have to rely on.


    Better to take the time I have and make the most of it.


    ¡°Let¡¯s head home.¡± I say. ¡°Together.¡±


    Ayre winces as they begin to redress, expressing discomfort as clothes begin to weigh down on what must be sensitive scales, newly growing breasts, and who knows how many tender wounds?


    Ayre¡¯s voice is oh so delicate as they give a voice to thoughts I hope they are comfortable expressing. ¡°It is¡­ Deeply moving to know that I am bound to those who can see me at my most vulnerable, most uncertain, and just know that I am still desired.¡±


    For a moment, they look like they want to say something else.


    Instead I just get to see a fang filled smile of someone who looks at ease in spite of everything.


    In spite of all my sister Seed Seers I could not save.


    In spite of my prior actions making me feel like I should be the last Lunarian they should trust.


    I extend to Ayre what comforts and assurances I have to offer. ¡°To live is to change. So what if you are changing more than most? Better you do it on your terms.¡± I pause, making time to assess whether any of my words give them pause.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to apologize or regret anything I¡¯ve done last night. Just ask that you help me see it through.¡± There is a blind confidence in their words. Although Snapdragon would call it something else.


    Hope?


    Trust?


    I squeeze her hand in mine for my own benefit.


    Smothering an urge to ask what they mean, I trust that Cerya has already heard them out and play out the role demanded of me in this moment. I recognize Ayre¡¯s willingness to cast aside a Blighted gemstone for the next for what it is. After all of this, they¡¯re willing to keep pushing forward in whatever it is they have gotten themselves into.


    And I¡¯m going to help them.


    I knew it within moments of entering the room.


    Whatever it is they are becoming, I will try to play a more active and careful hand in shaping it. Better that than accept that I am a cruel mistress made in the image of Mel¡¯Viora.


    I do not look at Ayre and see a monster made in the Castellan¡¯s image.


    It would be naive of us to think no amount of careful thought and intention was placed in joining us and Cerya together. That I cannot yet see the plot does not mean one exists or not.


    But suspicions are no excuse to treat Ayre and Cerya as willing tools in need of redemption or saving.


    We are each and every one of us responsible for the means and ends we bring about. Whether or not we decided on either, the three of us have chosen to bind ourselves to each other emotionally.


    If there is hope to be found in the circumstances forced upon us, it will most be found in attempting to help each other find the blind spots we cannot see for ourselves.


    And take the time necessary to remind each other that none of us are alone in this.


    It is in those we surround ourselves that we will have to rely upon.


    Last night will not be the first or last time our relationships are tested. However unpleasant it may be to hear, none of us can escape our place in this empire or the roles assigned to us.


    Nothing about our future together is guaranteed.


    Not for us.


    If I can promise anything, it is that I will turn my experience towards being mindful of everyone¡¯s limits.


    There is only so much that any one of us is capable of.


    Physically, emotionally, we are going to need to strike a balance if we wish to survive any meaningful length of time.


    For now, we will just have to make peace with knowing there is only so much we can do to fight against the ends our roles drive us towards.


    But it is no excuse to resign ourselves to not taking responsibility for what we do.


    Even in the most unpleasant of circumstances, a few thoughtful words and caring enough to fight for changes both big and small can mean the world to those we share our lives with.

 Chapter 25 - Running on Fumes and Drake’s Blood

    <h2 style="text-align: center">Arc 2 - Bound in Mutual Confidence</h2>


    Ayre


    A night spent fighting for my life demands time to reflect and recover.


    It is a time I don¡¯t feel like I can have.


    Too much violence in recent memory interrupted only by resonating with the perspective of the stones moments before they are pried from corpses they puppet. Being on the receiving end of what I know I¡¯m capable of gives me a sense of perspective I don¡¯t know what to even do with.


    Feeling restless and unsafe doesn¡¯t even begin to describe it. It is the closest thing I can compare to being back in the depths of my shared youth with Lenore. Eventually I decided to just keep myself busy.


    And then there is the matter of resonating with something as old as a gemstone. Very rarely do I glean something immediately useful, but the stones remember much if I care to have the kind of patience required.


    Every time an obligation comes up, those closest to me are quick to act on my behalf. I am being offered no shortage of time to collect my thoughts. Whenever no one else of import is looking, I receive a reassuring expression or gesture of affection.


    Too many new Lunarian faces greet us in the morning. Between reactions of hesitation and exchanged looks of discomfort, I eventually follow chains of deference to identify the Firsts or Seers in charge.


    My blackened scales draw more interest than I am comfortable with. But this is usually followed by hesitant looks back at the slain drake that Snapdragon and Lenore discussed the value in dragging within the walls.


    I do not experience relief until what must be the tenth time in a row that Theriya, Cerya, or Snapdragon intercept any who approach us, addressing any who demand our attention on my behalf.


    A variety of Lunarian roles are explained to me by Cerya, but I¡¯m uncertain if now is the time to make sense of it all. If anything, this morning is shaping up to be a stark reminder that I am still a stranger here.


    Snapdragon is quick to inform me that our little measures of controlling initial impressions seems to have paid off. We¡¯ll likely be able to slip away without worrying about any further need to prove or justify my presence and worth.


    But it is hard to not think of myself as a failure when I set out to accomplish so much. Never thought I¡¯d get as much resistance from those I trusted.


    Still, it is hard to argue with the amount of support I now have. A part of me dreaded the immediate aftermath but it looks like I won¡¯t be responsible for seeing everything through to an acceptable end in Lunarian minds.


    I get to just¡­ Go home. And that word doesn¡¯t mean a safe corner in the Depths while Fia or Lenore keep watch. It doesn¡¯t mean my personal chambers in my mother¡¯s castle where I never know if someone is moments from attempting to assassinate me.


    Returning to the tree spire home means I get to share a quiet space with people I don¡¯t have to hide from. It is as much a refuge for Snapdragon and Selescia letting down their guard as it is for me.


    Fia gets my attention with a look that suggests my stare is too intense. There is comfort in knowing that she will never be scared of me, no matter how I change. Even if she doesn¡¯t understand my need to change how I am perceived.


    These are but the first of many affirming thoughts I should be spending this time subjecting myself to. It hardly balances out the lingering soreness of putting my body through so much. But such thoughts make it easier to not grimace at everyone I meet.


    Limbs burn and ache with every movement. Yet I feel no worse for wear with twice my weight in an adult Drake¡¯s blood still running through me.


    My heart and lungs continue to work through a restless energy that the rest of my body contests with each new exertion. It is a strange feeling. Such desperate fights for my life have always left me feeling lessened or burdened with something I can never take back.


    Just having Fia at my side is a reminder of why I¡¯ve always denied myself. This feeling of strength beyond my limits has a cost that others must pay.


    I cannot help but wonder if I am going about this the wrong way? Should I be finding opportunities to feed on my enemies so that I am as capable as I can be? Or are there other arrangements that I could look into? Of all of us, Amari has served Vylian interests the longest. It is a question I¡¯ll save for her.


    The thought of enemies, home, and my changing body causes me to circle back to Astraea. Is there any place for her in the spire? Will I feel safe allowing her to return with us?


    Setting aside the sudden urge to resolve this myself, I allow myself to interrogate the warning that Lenore and I will never be more ourselves than before feeding on that drake.


    There are moments where the ease at which my thoughts are accompanied with a rush. It is in these moments where I feel most alive and validated for drinking as much of the drake as I have. But with it has come strange urges and thoughts.


    Thankfully feeding on the drake has not introduced a third voice in my head or urge to control my body. But it took Lenore a while to assert herself as more than just my wretched parasite upon which I piled so much blame and personal revulsion.


    How much can Astraea be trusted? From words exchanged in confidence to gain my trust, to the point of breaking that trust and making desperate pleas on behalf of her goddess, can there be any reconciliation between us? Should there be?


    This is up to you. Lenore had made that clear.


    Could probably fill days deciding how I feel on that front. Not that I have a lot of time before my binding to the Seed Seers and the arrival of my siblings.


    My pace from leaving the tower has been a dreadfully slow one. With the drake¡¯s poison still flowing through my body, seeing to that feels like it should be my most immediate concern.


    ¡°Fia.¡± I attempt to speak, but my voice falters as my lungs burn.


    ¡°Yes Master?¡± She addresses me in the masculine, causing me to wince with the reminder that she does not see me as anything but her Prince.


    There is hesitation in her voice, but it comes from a place of concern more than anything else. She is my blood doll, intended to be a source of strength.


    Not someone I feel compelled to drain poison from to weaken myself.


    Thankfully I am still amidst a coughing fit enough that even the most observant watchers are likely to misattribute the involuntary reaction on my part. ¡°It is very important that you fetch me an antivenom.¡± I make sure to scan the crowd as I speak, making a note of anyone who regards my words with interest.


    Fia is quick to bundle up her otherwise armful of beloved black hair in order to keep it out of her way. In this instance she wraps it round her neck and drapes it over her shoulder like a scarf. ¡°Of course, Master. This one will do so right away!¡±


    A Watcher begins to turn in our direction. I direct Fia to intercept them. ¡°Whatever dose they think is necessary, triple it.¡±


    Fia stops halfway between me and the Watcher I¡¯ve directed her to. The grin she flashes me is vicious. ¡°Oh! Is this one allowed to threaten violence?¡±


    That gets so much attention.


    I return her grin with one of my own, exposing my fangs. ¡°No. It is for the good of our alliance.¡±


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    It takes a few moments, but my words seem to be enough to relax the mounting tension of the exchange. I even catch a tension leaving Cerya¡¯s shoulders, not even pretending to hide that I am her primary concern.


    The threat of asking alone seems to have delighted my blood doll to no end. It is comforting to see that Fia is very quickly taken seriously. For now, it feels like everything I can do to entrust her with a task of importance


    Our lives have always been in each other¡¯s hands, after all.


    She is not the only one. Not anymore.


    Theriya is looking my way with a grin of amusement over the scene Fia has caused. In her hands is a hand picked batch of the most agreeable stones. Most of them just so happened to be chipped or damaged beyond being usable for any implements of note.


    A grim concession, but one made in haste to preserve what we felt like we could get away with. The stones are going to have to become a long term burden if I¡¯m to secure a better outcome. Until then, all I have are layers of justifications to spirit a few away.


    What scraps of intel I could glean will be delivered through Cerya¡¯s lips instead of my own. The rest will be for Theriya and I to ponder in private. No consigning anything to ink, as useful as it might be to reference.


    I¡¯m told that Theriya and her fellow Seers would be tasked with burning anything on the subject of Cinder Blights or their history. Which seems a waste in my mind.


    I still think the stones are more in the right. As aggressive and unappealing as their methods are, I struggle with denying them the right to resist their own annihilation by any means they deem necessary.


    That they are incapable of besting the likes of me alone is hardly something to be held against them. So very few can.


    For now though, the stones are out of my hands.


    I watch as Fia finishes exchanging words with a Watcher and is escorted in the direction of the Thorned Watcher barracks. With a grunt, I make it my own destination.


    Now that everyone knows I¡¯m poisoned, I allow my expression to return to a smoldering reflection of how it feels to exist in this body as it actively continues to change.


    ¡°Have you ever wanted to be a drake?¡± Cerya had asked me, but only once the moon had fallen and the Thorns stepped outside to assist Astraea. At the time, it must have seemed to her a sensitive question.


    And when I didn''t respond, determined instead to join them, Theriya began to elaborate.


    ¡°Perhaps Wyrm or some other manner of Dragon kin?¡± Theriya supplied more words for me to associate together.


    ¡°How can I have always wanted to be what I have only learned existed last night?¡± I say, not meaning the growl that accompanied my words at the time.


    I¡¯d learned that a Wyrm was an impressive thing to slay only when Astraea had been presented at court. But details were scarce enough to become secondary to knowing that I should probably be making my case for claiming an outside mercenary as my protector.


    Even then, I¡¯d decided to make my case a begrudging one. My intent had been to not show her any real favor, lest my siblings bid against me. If I am carelessly allowing a foreign mercenary into my employ, the logic was that they would allow it to pass uncontested and make any ploys to turn her against me later.


    Not once did Astraea budge. It was enough for me at the time that I never pressed her for details on what a Wyrm even is.


    Now the two who have offered to help guide and assist me with any changes to my body that I desire are asking me if I ever wanted to become something like it.


    If I said yes, would it further erode any opportunity to mend the broken trust between Astraea and I? Does she have something personal against their like?


    People and creatures with scales at least are not new to me. Having to lunge at flesh uncovered by them gave me more than enough trouble in the depths for their features to be coveted.


    A part of me thought it¡¯d be more difficult to harm myself with an outer layer hardened by scales.


    The pile that I pried from my arms when they first began to grow is proof enough that this would not be the case. Doing so at least allowed me to clue Lenore into the changes enough to discuss it.


    Everything is just too sudden, even if Cerya warned me in advance that this could be possible.


    Sharing my thoughts with Lenore is always a comfort. She even had the presence of mind to remember to assure Cerya and Theriya that we wouldn¡¯t pluck anymore scales from our flesh. We were just surprised and startled is all.


    Right.


    I didn¡¯t believe a word that fell from Lenore¡¯s lips, but it was not a discussion to have while Thorned Watchers are overhearing.


    Lenore feels guilty, like she is somehow responsible for a choice I made.


    Every step now carries me closer to the tree spire, where I can have that conversation. I try very hard to convince myself that discomfort in my stomach is just lingering effects from the poison.


    Lenore and I kept our thoughts to ourselves. We¡¯re going to change.


    Again and again and again.


    New thoughts.


    New perspectives.


    It is never going to stop.


    Growth and change are not unique to us.


    We just do it quicker and more dramatically than anyone we know.


    Still getting used to the added weight in my arm that Lenore healed. Sharpened claws are easy to appreciate at least. But despite having consumed twice my weight in Drake¡¯s blood, the dimensions of my body have refused to change in any noticeable faction.


    Pure volume, where is it all going?


    My body is growing a small collection of scales, sure, but that can¡¯t be enough to account for everything.


    An entire body aching from the night¡¯s exertions is not enough to answer Cerya¡¯s questions about me possibly growing a wings or tail. I have no idea if my body is trying to align with thoughts I shared having felt earlier in the night.


    Or is this intended for the likes of the Castellan¡¯s many broodlings? We monstrous few who can not only survive but recover from wounds to the heart that attackers do not force to remain open until long after our lessers would expire.


    Lessers, do I think of others that way? I shake my head wearily before looking around to realize I have largely escaped notice without confrontation. So many of the Lunarians are too busy with the drake¡¯s corpse. Others are carting smaller corpses around for purposes I can scarcely guess at.


    Can¡¯t allow myself to start thinking of other people that way. Not now. Not after displaying just how much violence I am capable of. Each and every one of them were born and raised in this environment or one like it. I cannot condemn them. Not for existing and surviving in the roles assigned to them. Not for that alone, at least.


    I don¡¯t even know how much the Depths compare to these woods under the regular passage of bloodthirsty moons. And even I¡¯ve changed since then.


    The day after my sister and I were uplifted from the depths, I awoke to a hunger for blood and having survived my broken or mangled limbs being replaced by those of my sister.


    Her voice and thoughts ring true whenever our shared blood is shed. And now I know she can take over whenever I feel compelled to shed blood against my will by the constant drone of a macabre moon.


    I take comfort in this, if only for a moment.


    The alternative is that being touched by Astraea¡¯s Goddess has forced a change onto me. In the immediate aftermath my body felt less my own. The delay manifested in more a dialog between Lenore¡¯s limbs and my own.


    I am left with no answers, only speculation.


    Any clarification would demand I confront Astraea or an older sibling of mine more in the know of our shared nature.


    Neither idea excites me. But one or more of them will likely be necessary.


    And soon.


    I allow myself to sit in quiet contemplation on a shaded stump within view of the Thorned Watcher barrack.


    My position allows me to watch as others make their way away from the wall.


    First, Second, Snapdragon, and the Nineteenth Thorns all report to the inside of their barrack for assessments of Cinder Blight and to have their wounds addressed.


    I don¡¯t know what is taking Fia so long, but knowing Snapdragon is inside with her is enough for now.


    It takes me having to remind myself that I can¡¯t keep doing everything myself to not rise from my stump.


    Although I will admit, suddenly hearing a familiar voice sure helps.


    I get to watch as Theriya closes the distance, making good on her stated intent to largely allow Cerya to handle the bulk of last night¡¯s report.


    ¡°You look like you¡¯re full of bad ideas.¡± She says with a smile.


    Here, outside the Thorned Watcher barrack, and within earshot of who knows how many Lunarians going about their day on adjacent streets, there is only so much I can say.


    ¡°At the moment? I¡¯m only seriously considering one.¡± I reply, my voice low and strained.


    ¡°Would you like company? Someone to conspire with, perhaps?¡± Theriya¡¯s words extend offers that I am all too relieved to accept.


    Going home and getting what rest I can sounds good and all. But it feels like doing so now would leave something important unresolved. ¡°I¡¯m not sure what to do about my Sworn Blade and would-be protector.¡± I finally admit. ¡°If I¡¯m to spare my time and energy on anything, it feels like it should be that.¡±


    Theriya gives me a complicated look.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be honest with you.¡± Theriya says with a sigh. ¡°Had my sister been harmed in the slightest, I would have offered to help you kill her myself.¡±


    I can certainly relate with that. ¡°And yet Cerya is the only one of us to come away from last night entirely unharmed.¡± I say, confirming what we both have already pestered Cerya to confirm.


    Theriya holds my gaze. ¡°What about you?¡±


    I wither under her gaze, unsure how to feel. Nevermind how to answer.


    Catching my head in my hands, made unfamiliar to me by the addition of scales and claws, I allow myself a quiet sob. ¡°That¡¯s just it. I¡¯m not sure if I¡¯ll know unless I confront her again.¡±


    ¡°If you choose to do so, it won¡¯t be alone.¡± Theriya says, the imperiousness in her voice is a comfort in that she isn¡¯t leaving room for an argument.

 Chapter 26 - Weight of Names and Reflections

    Ayre


    With Snapdragon¡¯s help, Fia and her exit the barrack with entire armfuls of liquid curatives.


    ¡°I demanded three doses of everything!¡± Fia announces, pridefully puffing out her chest and pushing the bounty in my direction.


    Easing the door shut behind them, Snapdragon eyes Theriya and I with a sudden interest. ¡°I hate to interrupt, but all of this did not come without a cost.¡±


    ¡°Is killing a drake not enough for everyone all of a sudden?¡± My words are lighthearted, undercut only slightly by Theriya quickly withdrawing her hands from my quilted jacket.


    Contrary to what anyone might be thinking, Theriya has been worried about keeping an eye out for any swelling or irritated skin that would signal more drastic measures.


    Her words, not mine.


    Fia is quick to chirp up, her eyes flitting between the two of us as her cheeks redden. ¡°Oh! Um. They wanted to trade exposure to some pretty gemstones in exchange for any healing. The Seer Sapling Lady got even more insistent when it was explained to her that the healing was for poison that Master drained from this one!¡±


    Oh.


    Resonance extraction first.


    Healing second.


    Depths, I should have thought about that.


    ¡°I should have gone in with you.¡± I say. Subjecting myself to this in front of the Thorns is the least I could have done.


    Theriya squeezes at a stretch of my forearm not made sensitive by growing scales. ¡°You¡¯ve paid enough already.¡± She says matter of factly as her way of assurance.


    ¡°About that.¡± Snapdragon waits until she has our attention. ¡°Astraea was the first to report for treatment.¡±


    I stiffen at the mention of her name, my gaze snapping to the barrack.


    Snapdragon¡¯s words soften. ¡°She was just finishing up when the rest of us arrived. When asked where you were, she took a seat instead of leaving.¡±


    ¡°She offered to subject herself to the stones in this one¡¯s place!¡± Fia chimes in, painting me the last of the picture.


    I look down again at the bounty of curatives. Fifteen containers of various liquids span the length of how much the arms of Snapdragon and Fia can carry. Each one already paid in suffering that Astraea volunteered to suffer in my stead. For my benefit, even.


    I close my eyes.


    ¡°Okay.¡± Is all I say.


    I reach out to take the first of the curatives prepared for me.


    Theriya holds out a hand in warning.


    Snapdragon takes a step back.


    Only Fia starts by offering me a clear explanation as to why I should suffer just a little longer. ¡°Astraea picked all of these out herself! She stuck to what she was familiar with during her time at sea and wanted this one to swear to her that you take these alongside food!¡±


    Snapdragon gives me an apologetic look. ¡°This one is safe to imbibe for now, provided you get something else to drink before too long.¡± She shuffles the curatives in her arms before handing it to me.


    ¡°Medicine and food.¡± I say, to comfort Astraea more than anyone else. ¡°Then I will be sure to give Astraea my thanks. After that, we can all go home.¡±


    Fia is pleased.


    Snapdragon quirks an eyebrow.


    All it takes from Theriya is a dismissive wave of the hand born out of exhaustion and impatience to smooth Snapdragon¡¯s expression into one resembling satisfaction. The Seer talks over the wordless communication with other details. ¡°Cerya should be finished handling the morning¡¯s affairs by then. If the two of you don¡¯t mind, I would like to send you both ahead. Most of us are long overdue for a steaming hot bath, don¡¯t you agree?¡±


    Fia¡¯s visible resistance to being dismissed by someone other than me melts away at the mention of a bath.


    Such things were only a brief extravagance back in Vylia, limited to our time at court.


    Fia looks at me, stifling her own excitement until I nod in agreement.


    ¡°I agree with Theriya. Between the long trip from Vylia and yesterday¡¯s excitement, a hot bath should go a long way in refreshing us all before today¡¯s binding ceremony.¡± My words seem enough to satisfy Fia and Snapdragon both.


    Snapdragon does not hide her eyes quickly darting between Theriya and I. She narrows her gaze in thought before biting down on her lip.


    When it is clear she has nothing to say, Theriya clears her throat. ¡°All of you deserve an opportunity to reap the rewards of what you sow and protect.¡± Theriya holds out a pair of hands to Snapdragon and I both.


    Food.


    Rest.


    A little time to recover.


    It is enough that Snapdragon holds her tongue until we are seated outside a little building where the wood and metalwork is finer than most. ¡°I am relieved that you are choosing to make the time to take care of yourself. With Theriya here, I half expected the two of you to be finding new trouble to get into.¡±


    ¡°In due time.¡± I say. ¡°But a part of me feels like I should be thanking Astraea. She had plenty of opportunities to do far worse than she has done.¡±


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    ¡°If you¡¯re sure.¡± Snapdragon says, eyeing the half a dozen groups gathered around our destination. Outside seating seems reserved for those still in their gear, fresh from their own morning tasks. Where Snapdragon and I are covered in blood, others are bathed in sawdust, soot, or mud.


    No one spares us more than a glance before returning to their meals. Only a third of them have the pointed ears and mud stained gear I feel comfortable associating with Watchers. They are decidedly better equipped than any of the Seedlings I¡¯ve met. Older and scarred, too.


    One of the Elder Watchers catches my eye. With a grin and a nod, she raises a mug in my direction.


    ¡°Wyrm Eater!¡± She greets me with a chant of all things.


    Her words are echoed by all those with pointed ears. Even Snapdragon joins in the Watchers¡¯ refrains of praise.


    It seems word travels fast among the sharp of hearing and most attentive.


    Snapdragon shares with me a warm smile that lasts long after we are seated. ¡°You just earned the praise of the Crimson Moons. They¡¯re the only Watchers older than the grove itself to remain.¡±


    Theriya leans against me, reaching over to knock four times against the window adjacent to our table. ¡°It means they¡¯ve guarded this grove through nights and eclipses long before there were any proper walls and defenses.¡±


    I chew on that, weighing whether to ask about the knock or the nearby company of veteran killers who have decided to give me a nickname.


    The window opens before I get a chance. Spices and roasted meats are but the first of many scents to snatch my attention.


    Glimmer stones bathe the interior in vibrantly warm colors. Wooden platters piled to another window¡¯s height are deftly shuffled out and distributed to another table on the building¡¯s far side.


    Before I can puzzle at the seeming lack of anyone responsible, sheets of parchment flitter from the windowsill. Only once they are placed in front of me do I realize everything within and without the establishment is tended to by tiny winged figures with flickering orange wings. I had previously mistook them for crackles of flame over the many fire pits food is prepared.


    The building¡¯s interior being bathed in red glimmer stones certainly doesn¡¯t make it any easier. Although the more I look around, it is only Watchers like Snapdragon and the Crimson Moons reacting to the many motions performed by the winged folk.


    Everyone else seems concerned only by menus, food, and the company they keep.


    Until my eyes turn back to Theriya, who only seems to have eyes for me.


    I¡¯m suddenly aware of the smile on my face.


    ¡°See anything you like?¡± She asks.


    I look down at my hands, absentmindedly cupped around one of hers instead of the curative I had absentmindedly set down. ¡°Yeah. There¡¯s¡­ a lot to appreciate all of a sudden.¡±


    She holds up a menu for me to read with another hand. ¡°Don¡¯t you worry. None of the Scorch Sprites here will demand anything of you over a little food.¡± She says, smiling warmly before reading off her order to a winged attendant.


    ¡°Although they will get a little eager if you mention wanting something overcooked.¡± Snapdragon warns.


    I look over the menu, listening with amusement as Fia reads off an intent to sample everything at my encouragement.


    When the Scorch Sprite makes its way around the table to me, I make a decision.


    ¡°A peace offering.¡± I say.


    ***


    Snapdragon rejoins us mere moments after our food is served. Fia and Theriya sit at my side as Snapdragon and Astraea sit down across from us.


    With a smile, I raise what remains of the cider already imbibed with the offered curative.


    ¡°Lady Wyrmsbane!¡± I cry aloud.


    Snapdragon, the Crimson Moons, and another planting of Watchers who recently arrived all echo my chant.


    Astraea holds herself still, her face an expressionless mask as the words sink in. After eyeing the seared crustacean I requested the Sprites prepare for her, she takes a deep breath.


    And allows a small smile to spread across her lips.


    ¡°I take it you¡¯ve heard the title they¡¯ve come up for you.¡± She finally says.


    ¡°Yeah.¡± I confirm, my expression giving away nothing.


    Astraea remains stiff as she holds my gaze. ¡°Are you comfortable with me using it? Or is there something else you would prefer?¡± Her words are soft, lacking any presumption as she begins by accounting for any change in how I am to be perceived and addressed.


    After a few thoughtful moments, I decide to bounce the question back at her. ¡°In your  opinion, would doing so lessen me in the eyes of others?¡±


    There is pain in the expression of my once-protector as she averts her gaze, catches herself, and faces up to harsh words she has leveled at me. ¡°No. But if you want my advice, you should only claim for yourself a title that reflects how you wish to be perceived.¡±


    It is hard to ignore the regret in her tone.


    I narrow my eyes, keenly aware that they have changed since last we spoke.


    After my withering gaze earns me the desired effect, I relent. ¡°In that case I will keep it. As my Sworn Blade, you can address me by it or my name as circumstances demand.¡± Gesturing to the seasoned feast between us, I invite everyone to partake at their leisure.


    Theriya sips from a cup with a familiar bitter root seeped in the liquid before leaning in close. ¡°If you asked me, one would wonder if the titles suggest a shared history between the two of you.¡±


    Astraea looks between the two of us before her shoulders finally begin to show signs of relaxing. ¡°I cannot avoid admitting that similar circumstances are what initially caused me to take an interest in Ayre. But no. It shames me to admit that if we were to compare our youths, I suspect I would find myself wanting.¡±


    Fia grins, showing off strips of half chewn flesh between her teeth. ¡°But of course! Master is the most relentless, kind, and thoughtful broodling to emerge from the depths of the Castellan¡¯s crucible!¡±


    ¡°As lovely a picture as that paints...¡± Theriya leans forward, presenting herself as the picture of a Seer interested in getting to hear about her future bound, as she guides the discussion. ¡°I would prefer to take a page from what you said before. Speak of yourself as you wish to be perceived. Tell us about the kind of life that leads to you serving as Ayre¡¯s protector. What led you to dedicate your life towards protecting one of the Castellan¡¯s favored children?¡±


    I watch with amusement as Astraea becomes aware of the kind of position she is being maneuvered into.


    She trades an easy enough smile with Theriya, painting much the same details gleaned from the end of carriage ride shared with me. It is only when she remarks upon Lady Wyrmsbane being a name that fit her better than anything her parents or she herself could ever come up with that her gaze turns to me. ¡°Feeling like someone else sees something in me that I cannot was never going to last. My crowning achievement could never have been to take the life of an ancient beast. And sure enough, day by day, the magic of my namesake¡¯s achievement began to fade.¡±


    I think back, realizing that this was the part of her story I never got to hear.


    I couldn¡¯t believe it.


    Still can¡¯t.


    Not even knowing I am surrounded by a growing number of those I care about or as the title of Wyrm Eater echoes in my memory. There is a building warmth within me that has nothing to do with the seared meat of a beast I do not recognize.


    I¡¯m living through the beats of Astraea¡¯s life like it is my own.


    Astraea pushes away her crustacean, leaving it half eaten. The artifice of this public scene demanding she avoid speaking in details that would put her in danger does nothing to dull the effect her words have on me.


    ¡°Instead of realizing that my truth was handed to me by another, I allowed myself to be remade and used by someone whose words once brought me comfort.¡± Astraea sits back, presenting herself as merely having a bad taste in her mouth. She tugs at the collar of her own quilted coat in an angle that only Theriya and I can see.


    The gesture reveals freshly bruised flesh around her throat in the shape and size of hands that so recently manifested to protect her.


    I shiver at the memory of those spectral hands on my shoulder, withdrawing inside myself as I tune out my surroundings for the remainder of the meal.


    I don¡¯t miss much.


    Astraea is no longer looking at anyone in the present, her gaze turned wistfully into the past.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t come for me.¡± I finally say, accepting the weight of everyone¡¯s attention. ¡°And yet I¡¯m the one you chose.¡±

 Chapter 27 – A Permitted Indulgence of Self Expression

    Snapdragon


    ¡°I wanted to thank you.¡± Ayre says, their voice and words careful. ¡°For ensuring Cerya was unharmed.¡±


    Theriya and I keep our expressions blank.


    This is their moment and not the time or place to critique Ayre¡¯s choice of words.


    Astraea averts her gaze in shame. "As a Sworn Blade, I still consider last night a failure. There is more I could have done to keep you from harm." With that said, there is no hiding how attached Astraea sounds to her role in Ayre¡¯s service.


    Ayre shakes their head. ¡°Everyone who matters will live to play out their roles another day. Some of the Thorns may disagree, but you respected my commands to stay out of my way.¡± Their words are careful, claiming credit for decisions made by Lenore.


    Theriya seems satisfied by this.


    I can¡¯t say I understand it completely, but if this Lenore is an entire person with a history as someone else before sharing Ayre¡¯s body¡­ What Ayre has confided to me in confidence certainly takes on an added weight. But the kinds of questions I have can wait.


    Fia refused so much of Ayre¡¯s explanation of the night¡¯s events. Even now she seems compelled to watch food be prepared through the window instead of taking part in this conversation. Worrisome, but I¡¯ve already volunteered to keep an eye on her.


    And I can just¡­ Say that I¡¯ll do something and not have to worry about justifying or reporting on it. Assuming of course that Theriya and Mel¡¯Viora are to be believed.


    I want to feel relieved. But all of this has been tempered by an explanation Theriya offered in the lull of conversation between Ayre and Astraea that she intends to claim the lot of the Thorns anyway, just to be sure.


    It¡¯s a good move.


    It just hurts to know that I¡¯m still going to have to continue to face these people I have shared a life with but could never claim comfort or joy in being one of.


    The hollow feeling in my chest leftover by words uttered by the First Thorn last night still ache to consider. ¡°So you would betray everyone who looked up to you and become what? A play thing for a Monster? A petal warmer for a Seer?¡± As if there were no other role for me to fulfill. As if I had no merit beyond serving as a Thorn in the grove¡¯s defense.


    When Fia asked if that would be wrong, I nearly shoved a spear through First Thorn¡¯s skull. I was too angry then and I¡¯m too upset now to even begin to question what Fia had meant.


    It¡¯s probably for the best that I missed.


    But I¡¯m just settling for acceptable at this point.


    If I don¡¯t, I¡¯m just going to be restless until I feel like I can justify being worthy of how everything seems to be working out on the face of it. Better than looking for threats that Ayre has already demonstrated a greater capacity for dealing with.


    By comparison, I¡¯m just¡­


    I¡¯m broken out of my spiraling by Theriya pressing a hot drink against the back of my hand. She has correctly observed that if there is anything I am willing to neglect, it is taking care of myself when I¡¯m in a foul mood.


    Guarding the walls is very little beyond waiting between acts of sudden violence. It is hard to give up feeling like violence is inevitable when that has been so much of my life.


    But being surrounded by people who love and care about me enough to remind me that there is so much more to me than the role I¡¯ve been expected to play is a genuine comfort.


    ¡°It is in times of rest and when the need to survive has passed that I find my burdens are hardest to endure.¡± Theriya¡¯s words are soft and warm as she spares time to include me in her list of concerns. ¡°Do not think less of yourself for prioritizing the needs of others.¡±


    ¡°I think we could honestly all use that reminder from time to time.¡± I say, trying to avoid looking at Ayre, Astraea, or Theriya herself.


    Ayre''s laugh still sounds sickly, but Theriya forbade them from self harm for the purposes of speeding up the spread of medicine in their body. Some honest concerns were shared about how their body might treat the medicine itself as something to be healed and by extension fought off earns Theriya a grateful look.


    It is genuinely nice to see Ayre looking so at ease in spite of everything. ¡°If you don¡¯t mind, I¡¯d like to discuss my body¡¯s changes. The ones you offered to me before last night.¡± Ayre¡¯s words taper off a little.


    That they manage to avoid side eyeing Astraea shows a level of restraint I¡¯m not sure Astraea is worthy of. But I bite my tongue on the matter.


    ¡°Changes. Alterations. Affirmations.¡± Theriya says, her hands still lingering on the cup I have not accepted.


    I take it.


    Accepting the unspoken inclusion of me in the change of topic.


    Knowing that the words might fall short of what I want for myself.


    But Ayre is here.


    Maybe my explorations will not be for nothing.


    Or better still, if whatever rapid changes Ayre is going through can be shared with me, I¡¯ll want to include myself. Even if that is a far off hope, I¡¯d like to be here to support Ayre through this.


    Doubly so if they lose the support of one of their dolls to something like this.


    I drink.


    And I take the first step towards feeling better. Even if Theriya¡¯s idea of refreshment is hardly my idea of comfort, the alertness her bitter brews grant is hard to deny.


    I thank Theriya with a smile, content to listen in and find ways to offer my support without giving away that this is a path I have already begun to stumble along.


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    ¡°We should probably start with expectations.¡± Theriya accepts a fresh drink from a sprite with a look that might convince most she is at her best. ¡°If you can give me an estimate of how much you¡¯ve consumed, by resonance or by blood, I can give you an idea of how long your changes will last.¡±


    I half expected Ayre to become disheartened at hearing those words. I know I sure did.


    Ayre merely smooths a hand back through their hair, revealing the scales that frame their face. They take a deep breath, and casually give an estimate that alarms everyone within listening distance.


    Fia looks faint. The words she mutters are barely audible. ¡°Not possible.¡±


    Theriya is the first to recover, side eyeing Fia seated on the other end of Ayre. ¡°Well. I¡¯ll want to see that garnet after we¡¯re done here. Your body is likely not even done processing all that. I would give it a day or two for your changes to settle. We¡¯ll make time to guide the changes if desired. But instead of talking days, you will likely not begin to see them fade for two to three whole ten moons.¡±


    Ayre nods thoughtfully, their thoughts slowly taking conflicted shape as they are mouthed instead of spoken.


    Is that normal?


    Am I¡­


    What about the Fourteenth who came before? No.


    I¡­ Don¡¯t want to know.


    Ayre shudders before settling on a much more tactful comparison. ¡°Give me a range to work with. How much would a stone grant me? In the long term, how long would it take to look like you?¡±


    Theriya¡¯s shoulders stiffen, and I very carefully avoid her gaze. ¡°This is a small stone, rather common and ill suited to causing changes for any meaningful duration. A quarter of a day? To get a body like Cerya? You would need to fill and drain between ten to twenty gemstones of this size with each passing moon for a few eclipses before even beginning to resemble her.¡±


    Theriya doubled the range. For me it was simply five to ten stones a day. Less if I wanted to hide the changes. Would her assessment have to do with the absurd weight in drake¡¯s blood that Ayre has consumed?


    ¡°I¡¯m sensing there is a complication here.¡± Ayre¡¯s eyes narrow, their own shoulders beginning to slump.


    ¡°To say nothing of your circumstances that I do not understand, you would need the permission and investment of whoever is filling those stones for you.¡± Theriya says, very carefully guiding the conversation to those invested in Cerya and not herself. ¡°Or in your case, a steady supply from whatever source has the desired changes.¡±


    Ayre nods, not asking if drakes are a common species in this area.


    Even an abundant forest like ours would not support more than a few. And they¡¯re regularly hunted before they can consider spawning children.


    Instead they follow Theriya¡¯s framing to its conclusion. ¡°Is there a Sapling or Blossom equivalent to Cerya walking around or¡­¡±


    ¡°She has three different donors investing time and emotionally draining effort into her. Only one of them is actually located in this grove. The other stones arrive here regularly, under much heavier guard than our own grove can spare.¡± Theriya is happy to share the majority of the context, not sharing that Cerya¡¯s horn is a personal deviation. But such a detail is not for most to know. Expected, given how many stones she and Theriya work with on a regular basis.


    But it¡¯s a satisfactory introduction to set Ayre¡¯s expectations.


    ¡°Just filling up three of those stones was¡­ unpleasant.¡± Ayre finally concludes.


    ¡°And you had help.¡± I supply, causing Ayre to meet my eyes with a sudden concern.


    ¡°Quite right.¡± Theriya confirms. ¡°I expect that word of Cerya¡¯s binding and alliance talks will bring both of Cerya¡¯s benefactors to our grove. If not today, then for the many days of celebration and negotiation to follow. Mel¡¯Viora will be leading an entire delegation to Vylia before long.¡±


    ¡°The hope being that I find time amidst all this to deal a lasting blow to the Cinder Blights.¡± Ayre says, their expression souring at the use of the only name they have for the complicated entities they are expected to exterminate.


    I intervene, trying to offer what sympathy I can. ¡°When it is all said and done, you could probably justify commissioning stones actually designed for the purposes of extracting and imbuing a body with alterations.¡± I limit myself to explaining something in detail that I would naturally know without the Seed Seers making extra time for me to explore the subject. ¡°Every grove tender keeps a variety of stones crafted for the purposes of shaping new Seedlings to their roles.¡±


    Most Seers are familiar enough with their use. And the ones our grove has isn¡¯t always in use, not after the changes settle into lasting features.


    But I leave it to Theriya to elaborate beyond what I''m comfortable explaining.


    I turn away from the attention, only to be confronted by the fact that Astraea is looking at me with concern. ¡°A most sordid method.¡± She murmurs, her voice lowering beyond distaste into¡­ discomfort.


    I shrug. ¡°Yeah, well. I didn¡¯t exactly get to choose what was applied to me. Nevermind that our hair colors are largely chosen to tell us apart until we learn our numbers and place as a planting.¡± Realizing I¡¯m probably oversharing, I pivot to justifications. ¡°Someone has to do it. And the more I learn and help Ayre and the Seers, the less burden it is on everyone involved.¡±


    The pinch of guilt I feel doesn¡¯t hold a candle to the expression Astraea now wears.


    But she declines to comment.


    So I offer her the ghost of a smile. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say no to eventually sprouting horns like yours or Cerya¡¯s.¡±


    Even if I¡¯d get them at a much slower rate.


    Even if they didn¡¯t last.


    They would be mine.


    An alteration however slight or fleeting would be a tangible expression of a shared burden. In Astraea¡¯s case it would be a token of how much I was willing to open myself up to her perspective.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid my life is not something I am willing to consign to stone.¡± Astraea says, her tone and words measured.


    ¡°Sure.¡± I say, striving to be accepting of the woman that Ayre still wishes to keep around in some capacity. ¡°And if you don¡¯t mind me saying so, I think your horns are very pretty.¡±


    This earns me a sigh. A wistful one, but a sigh nonetheless. ¡°They are unfortunately a very telling element of allowing someone else to define me.¡± And then she surprises me with a weak smile. ¡°But all the same, I remain quite fond of them.¡±


    ¡°They don¡¯t have to define you.¡± I say, couching my words in a hesitant tone as I return the smile with one of my own.


    ¡°Sure.¡± Astraea says. ¡°But others will define me by my horns. Irregardless of how I feel or the accuracy of their preconceived notions, such alterations lessen me in the eyes of much of the world.¡±


    ¡°But not here in Lunaria or Vylia.¡± Theriya finishes Astraea¡¯s thought for her.


    My gaze falls to the bitter brew in my hands. An even more bitter taste fills my mouth as someone from the outside world suggests the possibility that the kind of changes I desire for myself would Other me in the eyes of those who would not discard me the moment I can no longer fulfill the role chosen for me.


    And I can say nothing without revealing to other Watchers that I am not like them.


    I can show no interest in a world outside of a society that consigns literature about other races, magic, and gods to the erasure of flames.


    Not without putting someone at risk. And I couldn¡¯t stand doing that to Theriya, Cerya, or Ayre. Even Astraea probably deserves better.


    Ayre nearly sinks a fang into their lip. ¡°I don¡¯t understand. Why is resonance so¡­ unpleasant?¡±


    By way of answer, Theriya clears her throat. ¡°Resonance is never keyed to something nice, kind, or gentle.¡± She speaks with a rare zeal most might confuse with a studious conviction.


    Not this.


    Not for her.


    This topic is her entire life¡¯s purpose. The advancement of resonance as an expression of power and purpose is the most carefully cultivated abundance that groves are intended to protect.


    ¡°I would not make light of asking another to suffer for the purposes of borrowing some fleeting artifice of a temporary bodily change.¡± Theriya makes it a point to sweep her gaze over everyone gathered at the table.


    Ending with her eyes meeting mine, as she touches on the most relevant part.


    ¡°But to maintain such changes, one would need to regularly subject one¡¯s self to the perspective of another.¡± Theriya¡¯s voice softens at the end.


    ¡°And that is rarely worth it.¡± I say, trying so very very very hard not to see Mel¡¯Viora when I meet Theriya¡¯s gaze.


    When Theriya is at her least agreeable, it is a difficult comparison for me to avoid seeing.


    Harder still when I am privy to hearing everything that goes on within the entirety of the tree spire no matter where everyone is.


    I still remember when Cerya spoke to Theriya on my behalf.


    When I first expressed discontent with my body and role.


    What about it I can¡¯t stand, and why.


    The response Theriya reached for is one I first heard from the lips of Mel¡¯Viora.


    My body is not mine to change.

 Chapter 28 – Perceived by a Lover from Moons Past

    Snapdragon


    I¡¯m always going to hear those words in Theriya¡¯s voice now, aren¡¯t I?


    As a Watcher, I know what is expected of me. My perceived value can be measured in the weight of each morning¡¯s corpses. Unbearable alterations to my body facilitate this. Planted and grown into this role alongside nineteen other Thorns, I would not be the only one to suffer from any deviations on my part.


    Were I to change, what capacity have I to become something accepted?


    How am I to know what kind of place I can claim for myself in a society that consigns even the recorded memories of others to flames?


    What should it even matter?


    It is not like my worth can compare to what Ayre and Astraea are capable of.


    I will not be afforded the same indiscretions the moment I drift from the spheres of influence of Ayre or the Seers.


    The unkindness of my station hardly seems appropriate to level at Theriya. But so much of Mel¡¯Viora is in Theriya for those with eyes willing to see.


    How can I blame a younger Theriya for seizing the opportunity to learn everything that she possibly could from the single most terrifying individual in the grove? As ashamed as I am to admit it, I¡¯ve been guilty of doing much the same.


    The two of them are close. And there¡¯s nothing I can safely bring myself to do about that now. Theriya already has designs to start a grove of her own. So there is no need for me to prod at her like I do Cerya.


    I just have to keep us alive until then. With Ayre and Astraea here, that probably just means keeping them apprised of what I notice.


    For my role to diminish into what the most Watcher specific bodily alterations enable hurts. I never wanted to be able to hear or observe as much about the world around me as I do.


    Maybe I should get over myself for a day and share my sharpened senses with Ayre.


    I wince. Out of everyone here, would I not lessen Ayre the least to feast upon? Do I not already share so many of their most private thoughts and struggles?


    No. If anything, Astraea should have that right. Or are the comparisons between the experiences they have gone through shallow ones? By that logic Ayre should feel most akin to their siblings.


    Not being able to see what Astraea showed to Ayre and Theriya does not stop me from reading into their reactions. My imagination has filled in the blanks, made worse by witnessing a display of what she¡¯s capable of being on the level of Watchers who have blossomed into securing independence from their own plantings.


    What kind of thoughts and struggles does she suffer in private that compel her to remain in Ayre¡¯s service? Of everyone here, Astraea seems the least invigorated by fresh food and drink. Always the first to push aside every course of food, she seemed more invested in the company she was at risk of losing.


    I could probably take a few stabs at what Fia¡¯s got going on, but it hardly seems like my place to do so. Where I¡¯m driven by a need to prove myself to the point of shrugging off any suspicion, she clings to justifying her worth to Ayre like her life depends on it. For all I know, it probably did back in Vylia. But now she¡¯s surrounded by strangers whom she probably thinks Ayre trusts too easily. Whatever her reasons, it¡¯s not something to address in the here and now.


    It¡¯s always later for the likes of us, isn¡¯t it? When it¡¯s safe, or private, or once we¡¯ve justified our own existence. How often is this an illusion? Knowing that all it would take would be a Watcher quietly making their way to the spire¡¯s base and pressing an ear to the door is enough to expose what we would rather not be shared.


    I rarely feel comfortable sharing a petal with my beloved Cerya. Better that it be understood I constantly step outside and distance myself before finding a bed nearby to rest.


    A small sacrifice to ensure the safety and privacy of our home remains a genuine one. I make peace with having it be known that the approach to the spire is watched by the Seed Seers¡¯ most committed Thorn.


    I should probably stop calling myself that. Yet another matter to be addressed with time.


    Now that our shared meal is done, I can start to make my own contributions to addressing how we share the space we call ours. There are some long overdue conversations that the baths are probably an ideal circumstance for discussing.


    Besides, I would be lying if I didn¡¯t have a personal reason to get us away from the Crimson Moons. I¡¯m just hoping it doesn¡¯t come up.


    First off, just to get things out in the open, I turn to Astraea. ¡°I take it you¡¯ll not be returning to the spire with us.¡±


    I don¡¯t make it a question.


    She shakes her head before anyone else can react, gently placing the remnants of our meal by the window. That she goes out of her way to make the tasks of the little sprites easier is noted as another observant kindness on her part.


    I can¡¯t stop seeing those. It makes her hard to dislike.


    ¡°I already planned to stay in the room Amari purchased during our first night here.¡± Astraea offers Ayre a soft smile.


    ¡°Oh.¡± Ayre rubs at a fresh patch of scales to break through the skin on their forearm over the course of our meal. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ Probably for the best. But in that case, could you see that the Thorns prepare supplies for an expedition? I don¡¯t know when we¡¯ll have time or who will be involved.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take care of it.¡± Astraea says, a closed fist over her heart before turning to depart. ¡°I¡¯m committed to doing what I can to help on your terms. I can¡¯t apologize for the harm that I myself did not inflict, but I do regret creating circumstances that left you threatened.¡±


    ¡°I understand.¡± Is all that Ayre offers her.


    It¡¯s a good start.


    Only when she is gone from view does Theriya activate the onyx keystone on her gloves, returning the rose quartz crested staff cut into the shape of Theriya¡¯s Mourning Retribution to the onyx keystone wall mounting back in the spire.


    I¡¯ve¡­ Never seen it used. Hope I never do.


    Not on the likes of Astraea or any of Ayre¡¯s siblings, at least.


    ¡°Was that¡­ For Astraea?¡± Ayre asks very cautiously.


    ¡°For anything and anyone I deem a threat.¡± Theriya flatly replies, before her voice and face flush with emotion at meeting Ayre¡¯s eyes. ¡°You¡¯ll have to forgive me. My soon to be Bound and sister Seer spent the night guarding the walls. I am not the type to leave things to chance if a shadow of one exists that I found you all locked up in the tower this morning.¡±


    I flinch at that. It¡¯s¡­ Happened more than once to the Thorns. Retreat to the most defensible point and hold out until sunrise while sounding the alarm that we¡¯ve been overwhelmed.


    Ayre and Fia nod along, oblivious to the nature of the implement Theriya has kept at her side this entire time.


    I suppress the urge to shiver, knowing only that the kind of grief contained within the stone is the kind that has denied a number of Lunarians the drive to seek murderous revenge.


    ¡°Of course I¡¯ll forgive you.¡± Ayre says. ¡°But before we¡¯re out of earshot, I did want to ask the Crimson Moons something.¡±


    Blight and uproot everything.


    Ayre¡¯s own merciful depths.


    I don¡¯t want to deal with this.


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    Not her.


    For the first time since we sat down, the conversation between the Crimson Moons comes to a halt.


    Counting the amount of unnatural pauses in conversations happening all around us has become so reflexive that I barely even think about it anymore. But with Ayre, Fia, and Astraea here, I¡¯ve had to be more mindful than usual.


    What does it say that the Crimson Moons seemed the least perturbed about us so openly discussing the volatile nature of Ayre and the Seers¡¯ bodies? It¡¯s not the kind of topic most Lunarians are comfortable thinking about, even though we¡¯re all subjected to it in some form or another.


    Being directly mentioned by Ayre is the first time they show so much as a reaction to anything that has been said at our table.


    Sure, the Crimson Moons have been around longer than most. But as far as I¡¯m concerned, their loyalty to Mel¡¯Viora is older than our grove. An appropriately cautious part of me thinks that we should be more careful around them than anyone else.


    I see it as inevitable as the Moons defer to the woman who first addressed Ayre upon our arrival. It is of no surprise to me that a horned helmet is removed to reveal streaks of silvered hair. Iitharna is a boastful sort. Have I ever seen her give up an opportunity to show off and dispense some humble Lunarian wisdom to those she sees as her lessers?


    If I thought less of myself, I might be able to convince myself to hold her up as an example of what I could become. The confidence at which a Watcher fully blossomed remains willing to expose her body¡¯s scars is almost as enviable as her unwillingness to lie and drive to spare others the pain she has endured.


    The part of me convinced I can smother myself long enough to carve out a lasting life for myself in this grove has any number of shameful reasons for wanting to not have this conversation in front of everyone.


    I¡¯ve sought her lessons before. Enough to know Iitharna¡¯s kindness is as genuine as her threats.


    Ayre could do far worse than ask for her insights.


    The way she immediately falls into step alongside us even shows she is willing to be discreet.


    ¡°Oh honored Wyrm Eater, I would be delighted to answer any questions you might have.¡± She preens at the attention before pivoting to making the same effortless assurances that Astraea tends to. ¡°You need but dismiss me with a word and I¡¯ll rejoin my fellow Moons before we venture beyond the walls.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid you have me at a disadvantage.¡± Ayre says, keeping their words calm and measured.


    ¡°This is Iitharna, of the Crimson Moons.¡± I say, quickly accounting for Ayre¡¯s lack of context. ¡°When you¡¯re as experienced as she is, there is no need to keep track of her by numbers. That she is of the Crimson Moons carries the kind of weight here that the title Lady Wyrmsbane might.¡±


    ¡°No need to flatter me, little flower.¡± Iitharna is all smiles as she greets me with a familiarity that predates my relationship with Cerya. She turns that same comfort at drawing connections back to Ayre. ¡°You would not be the first Broodling to earn a favored position in our grove. Now that you are coming into your changes, I¡¯d be happy to offer the same help with your Vylian appetite as I have with your predecessors.¡±


    Ayre gives me a strange look.


    I try, and fail, to not look embarrassed. That I have compared her to Astraea was perhaps more accurate than I would have liked. That her reply suggests a familiarity with my preferred name is something I¡¯d rather not uproot here and now.


    Nevermind this shared familiarity with Ayre¡¯s siblings.


    I settle for shaking my head. Better they press through this conversation without deferring to me.


    Ayre turns back to Iitharna. ¡°Two questions then. To start, at least.¡± Ayre opts for the safe one to start with, following up on how I first introduced the Crimson Moons. ¡°How did you all do it? Learn to fight under the moonlight without killing each other?


    Iitharna runs a finger along the length of a scar along her collar bone. ¡°It had been Prince Morgan¡¯s idea, once upon a time. Fashion weapons that cannot pierce each other¡¯s armor. Set out into the woods, telling no other of our plans to kill all comers by any means necessary. Traps, lures, killing fields, and so on. If it got one of us killed, it clearly wasn¡¯t good enough of a plan. Repeat what works, refill our ranks by bestowing other plantings an opportunity to ascend in the favor of Mel¡¯Viora, and so on.¡±


    Ayre¡¯s expression and interest sours at the mere mention of Mel¡¯Viora.


    ¡°Oho!¡± Iitharna gives us a belly full of laughter. ¡°The glare on this one! Still, you¡¯ve your manners about you. A little more Morgan than Vauthry, eh?¡±


    Fia flinches.


    Ayre¡¯s nostrils flare. Their body tenses. I half expect them to spring to violence but nothing more than words follow. ¡°I¡¯ll ask that you not repeat dead names in my presence. The Fourteenth before me got the end he deserved. And Morganth no longer responds kindly to such.¡±


    Iitharna¡¯s eyes and smile widen with interest. ¡°Oho, don¡¯t stop there! Do tell me how creative Morganth¡¯s threats have become.¡±


    Again Ayre turns to me, a silent plea in their expression.


    In this instance, I try to muster a response. ¡°She may sound like she¡¯s playing with you, but I imagine she¡¯s genuinely curious.¡± I offer Iitharna a small smile and nothing more.


    Ayre takes my words in stride, needing only a deep breath to center themselves. ¡°The position of Third has seen two Sisters in recent memory. Unlike most, Morgant doesn¡¯t kill. Instead he conquers his enemies, laying claim to everything that was once theirs.¡±


    ¡°Oho! And then they fall in the Castellan¡¯s favor!¡± Iitharna favors Ayre with a beaming smile before inclining her head. ¡°I am pleased to hear Morgant has gained an appreciation for a sense of scale. Thank you for the answer. Now, allow me to apologize. If you are open to me making amends, you need but name a creature for me to deliver onto your doorstep, bound and alive for feeding.¡±


    ¡°Any creature?¡± Ayre¡¯s gaze lowers in the slightest of nods to acknowledge the look of reassurance I give them.


    ¡°Something contained to our woods of course.¡± Here it is, the inevitable boast intended to impress. ¡°I am to spend the coming days clearing the roads of predators to accommodate the guests who will be in attendance of your Binding ceremony. Why not offer you a choice of bodily changes to feast upon?¡±


    It is too soon, it seems, for Ayre to have an answer for that. Or at least one they are willing to offer a stranger.


    Theriya seizes the opening to volunteer a recommendation. ¡°If you could go out of your way to secure a Naga, I think that will suffice for my soon to be Bound¡¯s current tastes.¡±


    Iitharna bows an enthusiastic Vylian bow. ¡°A lovely recommendation! They have been getting bold with the Cinder Blights taking up so much of our attention. Yes, I think it is long overdue that we remind them who this forest belongs to.¡±


    Ayre clears their throat. ¡°Excuse me, can one of you explain what a Naga is?¡± Although their expression demands an answer to why they would care to have such a creature bound and fed to them.


    Theriya¡¯s reply is as swift as it is confident. ¡°As a blanket term, it covers a wide range of mixtures between scaled serpent and bipedal mortal. Although those that favor the serpent side of things may appear without legs at all, favoring an incredibly large tail.¡± Theriya¡¯s explanation chooses to turn a blind eye to any of the more words that might see a text on the subject burned.


    Discussing the classifications of Naga very quickly runs into discussions on racial purity ranging from pure blood to abominations. And that doesn¡¯t even get into all the religious contexts.


    Iitharna seems amused. ¡°It¡¯s hardly a drake or a wyvern, but if you are worried of becoming too monstrous, feeding on Naga will give you a nice balance while maintaining much of what you¡¯ve already gained.¡±


    Ayre looks between the two of them. This is a lot to suddenly take in, and neither is more likely to offer Ayre much more information to go on in public. Instead, Ayre turns to me. ¡°Do you vouch for this Watcher¡¯s words and intent?¡±


    I hold Ayre¡¯s gaze, not wanting to acknowledge or assess what kind of interest Iitharna still has in me. We didn¡¯t exactly part on good terms. But I didn¡¯t exactly slam the door shut to that possibility forever. I just¡­ I was never comfortable with the kind of direction her praise nudged me into.


    And yet. ¡°I do.¡± Is all I trust myself to say.


    ¡°Oho! It¡¯s settled then!¡± Iitharna flexes her scar ridden arms with an eagerness to hunt. ¡°One bound naga for the Wyrm Eater! Did you have any other questions for me? Or shall I find you after your Binding Ceremony?¡± The wink she deliberately aims at me is unmissable.


    Ayre¡¯s reaction is as protective as it is flustered. They not so gracefully step between Iitharna and I while closing the distance between the two of them. Ayre¡¯s voice falls to a pointed whisper. ¡°What¡¯s your end? Why go so far out of your way to appease me?¡±


    Iitharna locks eyes with Ayre. ¡°To the survivors go the spoils and honored agreements. You¡¯ve proved yourself earlier than most but, I can sense you burden yourself with a number of indiscretions you would rather not come to light. I merely wished to impress upon you that the likes of the most privileged can be afforded to not worry overmuch.¡± She waves a hand, gesturing broadly at Fia and I. ¡°Such trivialities can be overlooked! Arrangements can even be put to ink if you prefer.¡±


    ¡°And I¡¯m just supposed to believe you?¡± Ayre hisses.


    Her lips curl into a wicked smile. ¡°You already know the role for which you have been sent. Accomplish that, and you¡¯ll have nothing to fear. Oh, and do try to enjoy the festivities while they last. There are few privileges greater than to be bound to an up and coming Seer.¡±


    Again, Ayre tenses. ¡°I think that¡¯s enough for now. You¡¯ve your own role to satisfy, do you not?¡±


    ¡°Might I ask a question of my own?¡± Iitharna draws out a visible sense of satisfaction as Ayre weighs her words. ¡°If it helps, my curiosity is not currently directed at you and yours.¡±


    With a sigh, Ayre agrees. ¡°You¡¯ve been¡­ Accommodating. Fine. Ask your question.¡±


    Iitharna quirks the corner of her lip ever so slightly, a private smile intended to be understood by only herself and others with senses as sharp as mine. ¡°It has clearly been too long. When I knew him, Morganth was but the Nineteenth of the Castellan¡¯s brood. How high has he risen since his time here in the grove?¡± With this being Iitharna, she makes it sound like she already knows the answer.


    ¡°Prince Morganth serves as the Castellan¡¯s Second.¡± Ayre supplies.


    Iitharna almost looks disappointed. ¡°Again you have my thanks for satisfying my curiosity. In exchange, I¡¯ll be keeping an eye out on your behalf. My parting advice is this. At least have your Seer pass along word before you grow gills or wings and disappear for a few days to hunt for new changes. Morganth was incorrigible in that regard.¡±


    And with that, Iithaarna turns her back on Ayre.


    A reckless risk that she would never let me forget, once upon a time.


    Ayre and Astraea can kill almost everyone here. I have never been more aware of that than having to watch them largely do alone what my entire planting would struggle to manage without casualties.


    In response, the Crimson Moons celebrated and treated with us openly. It is as if nothing Ayre and Astraea have displayed marks them as a threat.


    The moment Iitharna disappears from view, Theriya tugs at my hand. I squeeze it, finding myself in need of what she is offering.


    I am very quickly drawn into an embrace shared by Ayre and Theriya.


    Even Fia gives me a look of sympathy that signals some level of understanding my discomfort.


    The comfort I find in the arms of Ayre and Theriya is¡­ Immeasurable.


    I can barely stand being a Thorn.


    To be reduced to a flower in the eyes of a more seasoned Watcher should never have brought me comfort.

 Chapter 29 - Time we Claim for Ourselves

    Snapdragon


    "Snapdragon." Ayre lingers on the sound of my name as it passes through their lips. They brush a fang against their lower lip before speaking what is on their mind. "Are you willing to tell me about your name?"


    With the door to the spire closed shut behind me, my gaze sweeps across our home¡¯s foyer. Selescia dutifully presses Fia into helping her clean up the worst of the night''s many accrued stains. Footwear is left by the door, hands are cleaned, and Amari has a quiet word with Theriya about Cerya.


    Not once does the fox kin avert her gaze from me. An interest in the question?


    I clear my throat, easing myself back into using my head voice. ¡°I am willing, but I had hoped to speak at length on a number of matters.¡± I pause, deciding to nibble at my own lip.


    ¡°On things you could not share elsewhere?¡± Ayre speculates, earning a nod. They are interrupted by a hiss of pain as Selescia makes the mistake of scrubbing through blood and bumping into scales.


    ¡°Apologies, Princess. I did not realize.¡± Selescia can¡¯t tear her gaze away from the extent of the growths and changes.


    ¡°Sssssorry. It¡¯s okay! You didn¡¯t know. They are¡­ Sensitive.¡± Ayre murmurs. ¡°Switch with Fia, maybe?¡±


    The other doll¡¯s eyes alight. ¡°This one will take care of the Master!¡±


    That gets a tight lipped exchange of expressions from Ayre and Selescia both. But the dolls swap places without another word. Selescia dutifully assists me in stripping down to my sweat stained underclothing while Fia does the same for Ayre.


    Noticeably, Ayre curses less with the amount of care Fia is taking to avoid the sensitive areas.


    I on the other hand am¡­ Unwilling to undress any further, finding myself unused to being fussed over by someone who isn¡¯t Cerya. I am left to fumble for words to express my discomfort. In stark contrast to Fia, Selescia quickly sees my discomfort for what it is, giving me space without a need for further elaboration.


    Theriya sets aside her efforts to catch Amari up on last night¡¯s events to fetch a rain cloak to drape around me. She then turns to Selescia, sternly addressing the room. ¡°I appreciate all of your efforts. But I must insist that Fia and Ayre be given some time and space in the baths to recover from last night¡¯s ordeal.¡±


    I blink, needing a moment to turn my attention away from my own body feeling exposed as I tug the cloak tighter around me.


    There is room to fit four in that bath, with sufficient dividers to give each their own privacy. Why would¡­ Oh.


    Theriya¡¯s reassuring smile says the rest.


    I¡¯m being given time and space to offer Ayre far more than just comforting words.


    Why settle for words when I can offer Ayre a rare display of my body?


    I could even offer up a taste. But this time in an environment where Ayre will be free to feel everything that it is I feel. Whether or not we are the same is secondary to offering them a more pointed awareness of their own body without fear of needing to smother these feelings in order to perform the roles assigned to us.


    We can just¡­ Be.


    Safely. Comfortably. Ourselves.


    I can''t help but notice that Ayre and Amari are exchanging furtive looks.


    She mouths assurances that Ayre¡¯s dolls will be addressed and taken care of. Ayre is left to think on Theriya¡¯s words while Fia clings to their arm.


    With a solemn inclination of the head, they eventually agree.¡°Yeah. There are still some things I¡¯m not sure about.  As much as I want to explain everything, I think Snapdragon and I could use some time for ourselves.¡± Ayre spares a hesitant look in my direction. ¡°If she¡¯s okay with it, of course.¡±


    I nod in agreement, even if the look Amari gives me suggests I am over eager.


    Amari clasps her hands. ¡°Very well. It shall be as you wish, Seed Seer Theriya.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll ensure everyone is on the same page.¡± Theriya reaches out a pair of hands, extending yet another quiet reassurance as she turns her head to address the others. ¡°Fia. Selescia. You shall have the task of preparing Ayre for tonight¡¯s binding ceremony.¡± Theriya gives my hands a soft squeeze before pulling away and raising her voice. ¡°As for you, Amari, I suspect Ayre would like a word in private.¡±


    Fia looks torn, but before she can ask Ayre for confirmation, Theriya offers honeyed words to bait her in.


    ¡°Selescia will need your help in making sure Ayre can adjust to a new kind of garment. You can have them all to yourself while Snapdragon and Amari tend to my Sister and I.¡±


    That gets Fia¡¯s attention.


    I trade places with Fia, taking Ayre by the scaled arm as we watch Theriya lead them upstairs.


    ¡°Fia hasn¡¯t even seen the dress yet.¡± Ayre whispers, a private amusement reserved for the ears of Amari and I.


    My voice is delicate all of a sudden. ¡°Did you like it?¡±


    Ayre¡¯s head slants to the side, exposing their scaled neck to me. ¡°It would have been bold revealing so much of my neck and back even before all of¡­ This. Now? I think it will make for a perfect presentation of how I wish to be seen.¡±


    ¡°As a Wyrm Eater.¡± I draw out the title, skeptical of Ayre¡¯s fondness of it.


    Ayre shakes their head. ¡°It serves a number of purposes for the short term. Right now, what feels like the most important thing is that it is something I can stand being referred to and perceived as.¡±


    Right.


    Of course.


    I decide not to press whether or not they are willing to demand being called Princess. Not until Ayre and I have an opportunity to discuss what happened after parting ways for much of the night.


    Amari takes this as permission to exchange hushed words in regards to Astraea¡¯s tenuous position in remaining a Sworn Sword despite the break in trust. She¡¯s quick to volunteer to check in on Astraea, explaining that she might have unique insights into Astraea¡¯s circumstances.


    When that gets a confused reaction out of Ayre, she elects to not elaborate. Despite evident frustration, Ayre does not press for details. Instead, they impose a time limit. ¡°Just don¡¯t be gone too long, alright? I want you at my side before I confront my siblings.¡±


    ¡°It is what you pay me for.¡± Amari teases.


    ¡°If we¡¯re to help your sisters,¡± Ayre corrects. ¡°I¡¯m going to need to know details on what I¡¯m walking into.¡±


    ¡°Very well. In that case, I¡¯ll be swift in making my arrangements! Give my regards to Theriya, if you would be so kind. She has a gift waiting in her library.¡± Amari bids us farewell before making a hurried exit.


    Which gives me as good a reason as any to finally ask if I can speak with Lenore about how she feels about everything that has happened. Sharing a body with Ayre and everyone who is fast growing smitten with her sibling feels worth asking her some important questions.


    But only if she¡¯s willing.


    ***


    Lenore agrees not long after Ayre finishes their recount of the night¡¯s events beyond the walls as I lock the door to the washroom behind us.


    Her first words are¡­ Disheartening.


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    ¡°I don¡¯t see a world where what I think matters.¡± Lenore speaks with a low growl of a voice that makes full use of their shared body¡¯s lungs. ¡°My sister is unwilling to give me up. And frankly I agree. It was by choice that I gave Ayre my life¡¯s blood. I¡¯ll not have anyone reach through them by force to get at me. So to that end, thank you for asking.¡± Her gaze turns away from me to begin taking in the arrangement of mirrors for personal grooming.


    Lenore makes her way to the bath in short order, keeping her gaze planted firmly on the ground as she does so. There is no careful consideration of what to do with her clothes. They are removed and tossed over her shoulder with little consideration to where they land. Out of sight and out of mind.


    It is not until she¡¯s had an opportunity to submerge herself in the bath that she speaks again. ¡°I¡¯d much prefer to wake up to this. Or, just once, for someone Ayre is fond of biting us too hard.¡± She laughs. ¡°Better to stir in a safe environment where I have time to collect my thoughts.¡±


    Meanwhile I arrange myself at bath''s far edge. Still clothed with only my feet submerged, I take my time warming my half of the bath with a red Carillion gemstone. ¡°So you¡¯re comfortable?¡±


    I¡¯m treated to another full throated laugh. ¡°The temperature of the water is hardly relevant. If anything, you should understand that every meaningful comfort Ayre experiences finds its way back to me in the space I am confined to when I am not needed.¡± She gestures to a blue glimmer stone and the stump seating by the mirrors. ¡°I''m coming at this from hoping any form of a bath follows me into that space. But for now, I just¡­"  Her somber expression suggests there are words left unsaid. In case it doesn''t last.


    "We intend to enjoy it." They say instead. Their change from I to we is a noticeable one. It is accompanied by a straightening of posture as they nudge their back firmly against the bath¡¯s wall. The movements complete with an ever so slight lowering of their slowly developing breasts beneath the water. This does little to hide the scales that line the sides of their neck and frame their chest.


    ¡°The hanging greenery serves two purposes.¡± I say, gesturing to an arrangement of flora draped within reach of the bath. ¡°Privacy, and to absorb any lingering moisture after we are done. If it would bring you comfort, I can draw that screen of greenery to divide up the space.¡± I nibble at my lip, hoping to start by addressing their aversion to mirrors and showing off their body.


    ¡°You two¡­ Don¡¯t need to worry about me.¡± Ayre mumbles quietly.


    I offer Ayre a soft smile before shaking my head. ¡°You would actually be benefiting from accommodations the Seers have already made for me. But if you feel up to exposing yourself, I¡¯m willing to match you in however much you feel comfortable revealing.¡±


    That gets a full fanged smile and a low growl as Lenore claims control. She reaches up to caress her own cheek with the scaled back of her hand. ¡°Sister dearest, Snapdragon and Theriya have taken great care to arrange time and space necessary for your worries to be addressed in full. Accept the comfort of being alone in a shared space or risk braving an opportunity to become known by another.¡±


    The expression Ayre is left making as they try to grapple with the words being offered up is as endearing as it tugs at my heart. ¡°That¡¯s not fair.¡± They quietly whisper to themselves. ¡°We can¡¯t just coax you into sharing this bath to avoid talking about how you feel as well.¡±


    ¡°Then get back at her.¡± I chide, hoping to encourage a friendly push back.


    Lenore¡¯s low warning growl is drowned out by a sudden slip into the bath¡¯s depths.


    Ayre emerges all a titter, coughing up a confession between expelling water. ¡°Lenore is. Ack. A liar! Ugh.¡±


    There is a pause as I consider pressing the matter. ¡°About what?¡± I ask.


    Lenore goes quiet, turning away to rest on crossed arms set on the bath¡¯s edge. ¡°I lied when I claimed that we would stop plucking the scales from our flesh.¡±


    She sighs when her words get no reply from Ayre or I. ¡°You might as well make yourself comfortable. If we¡¯re to speak of names, feeling trapped in bodies that ill suit us, or lessening ourselves to serve a role, why leave anything unsaid?¡±


    I take the invitation for what it is, removing my rain cloak and underclothes to finally join Ayre and Lenore in the bath proper.


    Whether intended or not, I find it so much easier to do so with their back turned. Who will know if I decide to just give them the benefit of the doubt?


    I am struck by much easier it feels letting down my guard around Ayre and Lenore. Is it because this is not my first time? Or is there a relief in knowing I am not retreading any of the same missteps with Cerya and Theriya?


    Witnessing Ayre and Lenore react to, lie about, and discuss their body¡¯s sudden changes means a lot to me.


    How many nights have I denied myself the Seers'' company because I could not stand to be perceived after subjecting myself to unwanted thoughts and less than comfortable changes?


    That I don¡¯t feel any of that now is¡­ Well I wouldn¡¯t say I could put my feelings into words quite yet, but I¡¯m willing to push through. I want to see where this shared vulnerability leads.


    Their shoulders slump before Ayre speaks in a disheartened tone. ¡°But we¡¯ve already spent so much time on food at some sprites expense, sitting down within earshot of someone who makes you uncomfortable.¡± Ayre looks like they want to scream.


    My heart aches at their words. It is one thing to know that their feeding comes at the expense of others. But to know that they extend this perception to food prepared by others¡­ What else am I not seeing?


    ¡°Let it out.¡± I encourage them.


    ¡°And I was just coming around to the idea of being happy with this arranged Binding Ceremony. But now I have to worry about becoming more of a monster than I ever imagined!¡± They clutch at their arms, piercing flesh with the larger and newly grown claws before deciding to grip the edge of the bath instead. ¡°I¡¯ve lost the trust of my protector. And now I have to worry about some goddess who wants to pry Lenore out of me! Why her? Why not any number of the kind girls I¡¯ve come to know during my time here?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not fair.¡± I agree.


    Their head and voice lowers. ¡°Are you and I not worthy of being remade when it is something we both desperately desire? If not us, why not my dolls whose lives are limited to the whims of any Vylian broodling who claims them?¡±


    I ease myself closer to them, leaning against the dividing wall of stone that separates our baths. If desired, I could easily unlatch and lift up the dividing wall that separates us.


    But I close the distance only to offer what small reassurances I can. ¡°You¡¯re not going to single handedly solve all our problems. Not within a day, a ten moon, or even an eclipse. All I¡¯m asking for is the time necessary to make sure we can all live with ourselves and each other. Not as what they want us to be, but as everything we are and hope to become.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t offer me that.¡± Ayre says, shying away from my words. ¡°Snapdragon, you saw how much a brief reflection of the moon affected me. I didn¡¯t stop having to listen to that voice get inside my head and try to convince me to do unforgivable things. You know how much we¡¯re capable of it. Even if Lenore¡¯s presence helps me maintain control, I¡¯m scared of where this will lead.¡±


    ¡°I can only imagine.¡± I say, trying not to think about how my worst nights lead to me locking myself in the baths for hours on end. ¡°But none of that changes what I brought the both of you here to say. No one else is going to understand how important it is that you and only you should be allowed to make decisions about your body.¡±


    Even if I suspect Theriya named naga for a mix of politically convenient reasons. There is likely an earnest hope that she believed it would help Ayre. It doesn¡¯t change that I¡¯m going to need to have words with her about so casually dictating Ayre¡¯s changes coming at the expense of other living beings.


    I am treated to a long silence as Ayre and Lenore shift uncomfortably in place.


    Eventually Ayre begins to muse aloud. ¡°If nothing else, it would be nice to know where others stand in regards to how we might want to present ourselves.¡±


    Lenore groans in agreement. ¡°She¡¯s probably right. There¡¯s no point getting our hopes up if we¡¯re not going to follow through.¡±


    Ayre¡¯s words fall to a disbelieving whisper. ¡°You¡¯re sure? Even if the truth is that one or both of us will drag the other into places and forms that makes the other uncomfortable?¡± They begin to shake with discomfort long before they finish speaking.


    Lenore¡¯s voice is a raw and bestial thing as she cups their shared chin with a clawed finger. ¡°Ayre. Listen to me. I have never been more in agreement with you than when we traded who would act as circumstances allowed. We had a drake to contend with, a shaky rapport with Astraea, Snapdragon¡¯s distant support, and you were drowning in a moon¡¯s bloodlust. But we made that work. It was you at the end who chose to listen to your instincts and what few interactions we''ve had since beginning to share a body. It was you who agreed to drink enough for the both of us with no promise that it would end well for us.¡±


    ¡°I wanted it too.¡± Ayre admits.


    ¡°I know.¡± Lenore¡¯s voice falls to a low rumbling purr. ¡°But you should know that I gave up a long time ago. Our whole life built up to that dreadful moment where we escaped the depths before it was demanded we kill each other for the place of Twentieth. Try as I might to pull away at times, we¡¯re not gonna stop influencing each other anytime soon. I might as well face up embracing that there are things we¡¯ll be able to do that no one else can.¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re sure.¡± Ayre tugs their own hand back down into a slump, a full body sigh escaping their lips.


    Lenore hums softly before dropping her voice to an even lower pitched whisper. ¡°My precious sister, I want you to leave this bath as a full on Draconic Princess if that¡¯s what you hope to one day see in the mirror. But first, I think you should turn to face the wilting flower whose hopes for a better life likely rival our own.¡±


    Ayre does, and it is with the most heartfelt smile that they meet my gaze.


    Lenore doesn¡¯t seem satisfied to stop there, claiming Ayre¡¯s lips to urge them onward. ¡°Look at her. Really look at her this time. Don¡¯t stop there. Introduce yourself! Then find it in your heart to ask that pretty girl about her name.¡±


    The laughter Lenore earns from the both of us is well earned.


    She presses onward, deadly serious this time. ¡°And if the both of you are up for it, you would do well to ask each other what it is that you both want more than anything else in the world.¡±


    ¡°Lenore.¡± Ayre hisses. ¡°You can¡¯t just¡­ Sorry. I need a moment.¡±


    I wipe a tear from my eyes, not even trying to hide the warmth building in my cheeks. ¡°Take all the time you need, okay? I¡¯m not going anywhere.¡±


    Ayre shifts and pulls themselves towards the center dividing wall of the bath to regard me more closely. I am treated to a few moments of Ayre mustering their composure before committing themselves to doing as Lenore instructed. ¡°I know sharing a bath is quite a bit late to be doing this, but allow me to formally introduce myself as the Fourteenth Vylian Princess Ayre. It is a heartfelt pleasure to share this moment with you. Might I ask to know of the name you claim for yourself? You, who are already beloved by both of the enchanting Seed Seers who call this spire home.¡±


    I resist the urge to giggle, merely permitting myself a glowing smile as Ayre commits to presenting as the Princess they wish to be. ¡°I am afraid that the name I claim is that of an unassuming flower given teeth by a murderous moon. If only I could be changed by taking a bite out of another.¡± We trade warm smiles before one head finds a place on another¡¯s shoulder. ¡°I should think that I would be on the precipice of embodying a Snapdragon in ways I never thought possible.¡±


    Ayre¡¯s voice and expression alight with warmth. ¡°That¡¯s the hope, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    I bite at my lip, caught off guard by Ayre so readily responding to my advances.


    Dare I hope?


    I¡¯ve already made it this far, haven¡¯t I?


    I take Lenore¡¯s advice.

 Chapter 30 - To be Desired, Claimed and Share Pleasures of the Flesh (18+)

    Ayre


    Snapdragon¡¯s teeth settle into the flesh of my shoulder.


    ¡°Is this okay?¡± She asks, her breath causing me to shudder.


    I¡¯m not okay.


    That¡¯s¡­ Not what she asked.


    The feel of another¡¯s teeth nearly causes me to bend the metal of the dividing wall between us as I fight against urges to¡­ Defend myself.


    I shake my head. ¡°Don¡¯t pull away. Just¡­ Give me a moment.¡±


    Her cheek brushes ever so gently against mine. A welcome warmth in stark contrast to the bitter cold tension and panic stirred by her teeth resonating with old memories.


    Deep.


    Dark.


    From the depths of my past.


    A life before a princely hunger for blood.


    Snapdragon¡¯s words, ever gentle and distant, guide me back to the present. ¡°Know that this never has to go further without your explicit approval.¡±


    With her words comes the sensation of her breath and lips brushing against my flesh.


    The rush of my blood and a desperate need to fight or flee begins to become something¡­ Else.


    Something I have been alone in denying myself.


    I shake away exchanges of teeth and flesh and limbs in the depths.


    ¡°I know.¡± As my lips part, I will my eyes to open. The simple act of taking in the room around me becomes an exercise in grounding myself.


    Here.


    In this place. In Snapdragon¡¯s arms.


    It is home. And I am safe here.


    Not that she could stop me from¡­ I flinch, before deciding to allow the thoughts to spiral out into their natural conclusions. I remind myself that I am not my impulses or worst thoughts.


    Her touches are weak¡­ No, delicate.


    Her voice is not veiling threats but intended to instill comfort for my sake.


    She has her own overly sensitive features to worry about. In that regard, that she is whispering likely serves a dual purpose.


    My urge to growl a warning becomes a low and thoughtful hum as I arrive at a conclusion that should have seemed inevitable after but a moment¡¯s thought.


    Snapdragon is not a threat.


    ¡°I am¡­ Not in danger.¡± I say, exhaling a held breath.


    Slowly but surely, I work at easing the grip of my hands.


    What would have happened if my hands had gripped her flesh?


    Would it have been harder to let go?


    Or easier because she wouldn¡¯t fight back?


    Far more likely that she would have just¡­ Talk me through it.


    I stop myself. Unlike the previous thought spirals, these might drift somewhere uncomfortable. I force myself to accept what I have and focus on pushing myself into the part where I have enough assurances to finally finish letting down my guard.


    I allow myself to feel more than the warmth of her embrace. Now that Snapdragon has passed the red heating stone to my side of the dividing wall, I can soak in the feeling of having my fears melt away.


    She waits patiently until it is abundantly clear that I have recovered from my initial reactions. ¡°You don¡¯t associate biting with anything pleasant, do you?¡±


    My eyes narrow on instinct. ¡°No. Why should I?¡± The terse reply does not leave my lips before I regret it.


    Snapdragon senses this, and gives me a tight lipped smile. ¡°In part, because I think you¡¯d be well served to find releases for the tension you will inevitably accrue.¡± Her hands reach for mine. Instead of holding them, she draws her fingers in artfully paced motions along the palms and undersides of my clawed fingers.


    When I look up, I find that her gaze is fixated on every reaction of mine. A shudder here, a hitched breath there. ¡°I see.¡± And with that, I will my gaze to soften. ¡°Thank you. This is¡­ Okay. I think I¡¯ve weighed the value of your words enough to want it. Even if all this would not be my first choice for burning off the excess instincts I¡¯m left to grapple with long after they are useful.¡±


    Snapdragon leans close, a wistful sigh passing through her lips. ¡°I¡¯m afraid my value as a sparring partner will be middling at best. Our beloved Seers, even less so. If you are to bind yourself to them through affection instead of obligation, I think it is worth measuring your comfort with intimacies of sharing your flesh with another.¡±


    The laugh that follows is unexpected. I¡¯m reminded of this morning cleanup where Cerya struggled to balance the weight of a single bolt thrower. ¡°You¡¯re likely right. I can¡¯t exactly show my appreciation for Cerya coming to my rescue if my every reaction to being touched in a way I don¡¯t expect prompts me to fear for my life.¡± My musings do not stop with my words.


    As my gaze falls into introspection, I am left to consider how to proceed. Can sharpened claws and thirsting fangs be applied to a gentler purpose?.Only one way to find out, I suppose.


    Deft strokes soon begin to cleave lingering stains from Snapdragon¡¯s forearms. The slow motions that linger long after the cleaning is done prompt shudders from my bathing partner.


    Her fluttery words that follow are an attempt to further assure me. ¡°We can¡­ Take it slow.¡± It is hard to miss the wild look in her eyes that takes more than a few hitched breaths to calm.


    I feel an urge to reach deep into our lungs as Lenore seeks to tug at this body and make her presence known once more. ¡°You two finally enjoying yourselves?¡±


    There is no playfulness in her voice. Just a subdued rumble of a voice intended to test the waters and see if a delicate moment has passed.


    ¡°I¡¯m okay.¡± I eventually say aloud. My gratitude is directed as inward as it is outward. At no point during my averse reaction and subsequent spiraling did I feel Lenore attempt to intervene.


    The last thing I likely need in response to feeling like I am in danger is a loss of control over my own body. Although a part of me hopes I can trust her to hold me back if she disagrees strongly enough.


    But I suppose I am already in capable hands. They¡¯re ones I am now taking a chance on trusting to scrub my most delicate scales.


    Now that I am not pulling away from every touch, we quickly learn that my scales are far less sensitive if she strokes or rubs in the downwards direction that the scales are growing. It is the inverse that threatens to lift and tug if the touch is too careless. A closer inspection by Snapdragon informs me that the new ones are literally tearing their way through my flesh. Much to my relief, scales that seem to have largely finished setting into place no longer agitate my flesh and lose much of their sensitivity.


    I wish I could say the same was true for my breasts.


    Snapdragon assures me that it is the earliest stages of growth that are the most sensitive. In this at least, our bodies are comparable, what with her not being much further along than me in that regard.


    But before I can dwell on that, Lenore takes her suggestions in a different direction. ¡°Based on how their growth spurts have lined up with chest injuries, we could just speed up our body¡¯s reactive responses with a drawn out night of biting at our chest.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± I say, cutting off the idea before I can entertain it. ¡°I feel full for once. I¡¯m wary that making this an intentional night of pain is not a healthy way to go about it.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re probably right.¡± Snapdragon confirms, sounding only slightly disappointed.


    ¡°Besides, I don¡¯t know anything about my body¡¯s new additions.¡± I elaborate. ¡°And immediate discomfort isn¡¯t worth recklessly hurting ourselves.¡±


    ¡°As girls, this is a topic that literally any of us can help you understand.¡± Snapdragon offers, before narrowing her eyes and jabbing gently at Lenore. ¡°What I won¡¯t claim to know is how your body works. Unless you know precisely what you¡¯re doing, I urge you to reconsider.¡±


    Lenore huffs, raising up the hand most badly burned by last night¡¯s gemstones. ¡°Like most things that stem from our parasite, I¡¯m operating almost entirely off of memories and vague instincts. The most I know how to do is lean into it and commit more blood if I think the need is great.¡±


    Snapdragon frowns. ¡°I worry about how much you hurt yourselves.¡±


    My sister averts our gaze. ¡°We wish we knew a better way. I rarely get to stay for long unless¡­¡±


    I am the one to raise a hand over my heart, intending to reach for Lenore in the only way it feels I can. ¡°None of what I¡¯m saying now is meant to make you feel like I don¡¯t want you here. Your presence is worth a little pain and discomfort.¡±


    ¡°None of that, you¡¯re worth more nonsense.¡± Snapdragon says with a warning glare that catches the both of us off guard in its fierceness.


    Right. She was there to resonate with that memory.


    Snapdragon isn¡¯t finished. She adds her hand to mine. The touch lingers, causing us to shiver.


    Depths, we¡¯re in deep now, aren¡¯t we Lenore?


    From there, Snapdragon resumes exploring our body by hand. Gentle scrubs are followed by even gentler caresses. Time and again I assure her that I am okay with whatever part of my body is next to earn her caring touch.


    At regular intervals she stops to take measure of my own comfort. Although I suspect she is just drinking in how much we seem to be enjoying ourselves.


    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    It is slowly and clumsily that I have been endeavoring to reply in kind. Where Snapdragon is all precise and measured advancements, I make up for clumsy and uncertain motions with an intensity of attention.


    The occasional nudge by Lenore helps this all feel more natural than it might otherwise.


    I find myself not only allowing, but encouraging Lenore¡¯s assistance. When asked about the switching between Lenore and my control, I clarify. ¡°My sister has had the body of a girl for longer than me.¡±


    Snapdragon leans into our hand rubbing against her cheek with a soft sigh. ¡°Ayre, if you perceive yourself as a girl, or a Princess, or a Drake, you can just be that.¡±


    When I don¡¯t immediately agree, she reaches out to thumb at the chip in my lip from my first failed attempt at feeding. ¡°To fuss over the details and timing is more trouble than it¡¯s worth. I have found that it hurts less if I look back at myself through the perspective of how I wish to present and be pleasantly surprised by the me that shines through.¡±


    I need more than just a few moments to dwell on that. My quietly forming aversion to her words are difficult to muster when even my scars are being marveled at.


    But before I can muster up the courage, Lenore tugs at our lips to call attention to a key detail. ¡°I¡¯m still your older sister. So there!¡± She smiles wide for the two of us.


    But some look in my eye must betray me, as Snapdragon beckons me once more into her embrace.


    The unspoken promise of her outstretched arms contain more than just warmth,safety, or pleasure. There is a patience, acceptance, and sense of understanding that draws me into more than just wanting to accept. I want to lose myself in these sensations. To put off and inconvenience the world so I can linger in these precious moments where I feel safe trusting another.


    It is by wordless agreement that the dividing wall of the bath that limits our embraces becomes more trouble than it is worth.


    Snapdragon pulls me along in her embrace as she spares an arm to begin a cycling out of all the water now that we¡¯ve both been scrubbed of the worst of last night¡¯s remnants.


    The time it takes to lift the barrier and drain the water is spent working up the courage to commit to the idea of someone else sinking her teeth into my flesh.


    Our heart races as we imagine what it will feel like to experience pain without fear of death or failure. It is a familiar sensation made exciting and new again by taking away everything that would make us want to avoid it.


    I blink before feeling Lenore reach out to guide Snapdragon¡¯s head to rest on our shoulder. ¡°It¡¯s okay.¡± Lenore shudders with anticipation. ¡°I want this.¡±


    Snapdragon¡¯s embrace becomes a full body one.


    Pain alights as our heart hammers against the confines of our chest. We guide our clawed fingers to Snapdragon¡¯s back, gently pushing aside her red hair until it drapes over a far shoulder.


    ¡°Don¡¯t hold back for me.¡± Snapdragon growls through clenched teeth. ¡°I can take it.¡±


    We close our eyes as her teeth break through our skin. We rake our claws in response, taking great care to leave only tender marks and not draw blood.


    As fresh water pours in to fill the bath once more, our embrace is drawn to a close only by a need to keep our heads above water. Fresh from finally giving into our urges, we take in each other¡¯s bodies outlined in a rippling pool.


    All of Snapdragon¡¯s lean muscles are packed into wherever her role as a Watcher drills into and demands of her. Curiously, her breasts are almost as small as mine, and infinitely more sensitive.


    She offered to explain, so I ask.


    ¡°For a Watcher, breasts are considered largely unnecessary.¡± She softly explains. ¡°Naturally, as a result their growth is discouraged. Not that it has been all that hard for Cerya to encourage them to begin growing again. Left untended to, they¡¯re supposed to take many eclipses to fully grow. I¡¯d actually hoped to be far away from this grove before they grew large enough to be noticeable.¡±


    ¡°If that¡¯s still something you want.¡± I start to say, before stopping to wonder if I am overstepping.


    Snapdragon takes my hand, her fingers lacing between mine. ¡°It is. But it¡¯s not an immediate worry.¡±


    Lenore finishes my promise for me. ¡°Then you and I will grow beyond this grove.¡±


    Our words provoke a different kind of gasp from Snapdragon. When at last she regains her composure, her fingers begin to trace the thickened veins along our extended arm that grow far more prominent with extended use.


    I take that as a sign for me to match her in sharing vulnerable details about my body. ¡°These on the other hand are incredibly necessary when, as Lenore put it, the need is great.¡±


    Still, I find them unsightly enough to pull my arms away after her touch causes me to shudder.


    ¡°If the circulation of blood is important to how your body works, it¡¯s worth bringing up with the Seers whenever you sit down to discuss your body¡¯s changes.¡±


    I¡­ Want to say that I¡¯ll keep it in mind but only nod.


    Instead of continuing to explore and share in each other¡¯s bodies like I had hoped, Snapdragon draws attention to this withdrawal from her affections.


    ¡°Please don¡¯t beat yourself up.¡± Her words skip ahead of my own thoughts, cutting me off before I can lament the need to withdraw my consent.


    ¡°How do you do that?¡± Lenore growls. ¡°How does everyone seem to know more about what we need than we do?¡±


    I clear my throat, unsure what to add now that Lenore is practically speaking my mind. We withdraw our legs, folding them up and against our chest as we hold ourselves tight.


    ¡°By suffering their own pains, most likely.¡± I supply, unable to get the image of Astraea¡¯s neck out of my mind.


    Snapdragon sighs before pulling her hair back. ¡°To be fair, the two of you have largely been confined to some unbearable depths.¡± Her voice softens at the depths¡¯ mention.. ¡°By comparison, how long did they spend on teaching you to be a Prince?¡±


    My sister uses my voice to whine. ¡°Long enough to think of ourselves as a wretch for taking the only option afforded to us in a desperate bid to survive.¡±


    ¡°No time at all, by comparison.¡± I whisper mournfully. ¡°Or far too long now that I know Lenore has spent this time existing only in darkness between desperate periods of need.¡±


    Lenore¡¯s reply is a wordless grumble in begrudging agreement.


    Snapdragon does not take our hand, or close in on us. She merely shifts herself into our half of the bath, revealing scars that do not heal like ours do in the process. An abundance of lighter ones decorate the front and her arms. It is when her back is briefly turned that the deep gouges of once life threatening wounds are revealed.


    Did we really claw at her back and not cause her to flinch or¡­


    Please, don¡¯t beat yourself up.


    Snapdragon¡¯s recent words ring in our ears.


    We stop ourselves from spiraling as she sits in a mirrored pose as us.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯re being fair to yourselves.¡± She says with a frown. ¡°Which is not to say that you can¡¯t be upset or uncertain. I just don¡¯t think you should think less of yourselves or think of either of you as holding the other back as a result.¡±


    We meet her gaze.


    This time it is Lenore that wishes to look away.


    I let her.


    ¡°Easy for you to say.¡± Lenore growls, showing our teeth. ¡°You still have your own body.¡±


    A less than pleasurable hitch in Snapdragon¡¯s breath prompts us to both look back as her eyes begin to water.


    ¡°Depths.¡± Lenore curses. ¡°That¡¯s why you want to get away, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    Snapdragon only nods before holding up a palm to put this conversation on hold. Her ears flick as she turns to look at the entrance to the bath before the knock comes, as if to warn us that we are about to be interrupted.


    It seems the time for this conversation to remain between us has ended.


    It is a soft and familiar voice that apologizes after the knock. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t mean to overhear that. I just¡­ Heard the water finish cycling and thought¡­¡±


    Snapdragon¡¯s lip tightens as she watches us, expectantly.


    ¡°Come on in, Cerya.¡± We say, before thinking on it and deciding that Cerya might appreciate a more overt invitation. ¡°If there were to be anyone I¡¯d accept inviting themselves in, it would be the Seer who has claimed the both of us. Please, feel welcomed in joining us.¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re sure.¡± Cerya whispers only after she closes the door behind us.


    Snapdragon beckons the Seer to join us in spite of the tears still streaming down her cheeks. ¡°My love, this is neither the first, nor the last time you¡¯ll find me withering away from your ever fretful gaze.¡±


    Cerya directs a sad smile at us bundled in one another¡¯s arms. ¡°As your Seer, how could I turn a blind eye?¡±


    With or without the dividers, there is more than enough room for all three of us to find space to stretch out and relax within this bath. The problem immediately facing us is a prolonged negotiation on how close we¡¯re all comfortable being in relation to another now that Cerya has missed the bulk of what has unfolded in her absence.


    Close, but not too close enough to impose, all while wanting to give enough space to cry or, no, it¡¯s fine and so on. Drawn out further as Snapdragon calls attention to Lenore¡¯s vulnerabilities that have largely remained unknown to Cerya.


    The time spent negotiating just so happens to be spent helping Cerya undress and feel clean enough to enjoy the comfort of sharing a bath with her¡­


    ¡°Lovers.¡± is very distinctly the word she uses.


    It is something I have no immediate resistance to being called. And that in and of itself causes me to hesitate. Am I sure? No, really. She means it, even as we fret and struggle to accept it.


    After that display, Cerya refuses to settle in a position where either of us are out of arm¡¯s reach, resulting in an arrangement where the both of us are pressed up against either side of her. Even then it takes time for arms and legs to search for an entanglement that extends comfort to the far partner without being itself uncomfortable.


    I quickly find that I have a lot of affection for bites that do not pierce the flesh. Especially when they are leveled at my legs.


    Although Cerya insists that such gentle expressions are called nibbles.


    Lenore shakes our head. ¡°Does the difference matter when Snapdragon is sensitive enough that her reactions are indistinguishable?¡±


    Cerya is even kind enough to do the nibbling and biting on our behalf, much to Snapdragon''s cries of distress.


    ¡°Like you ahh¡­ Have room to talk!¡± The hand she cups around my breast by way of reply causes my whole body to shake and writhe.


    And for once in my life, I consider the sensation most welcome.


    If I can ignore the occasional feeling of being cramped within my own flesh or the urge to use a tail I don¡¯t have, I almost feel up to admitting that this is the best I¡¯ve ever felt.


    Feeding on another doesn¡¯t count. It satisfies unnatural instincts imposed upon us that come at the expense of another.


    This?


    These¡­ Pleasures of the flesh.


    Snapdragon and Cerya put time and effort into finding a guilt free way for us to feel comfortable in circumstances we would never have thought possible.


    I don¡¯t even know how to begin to communicate how much it means to me. Eventually I decide to stop overthinking about it and just start by expressing my appreciation directly.


    The least I can do is begin to pay them back with what small expressions of affection I feel comfortable sharing. Even if it feels like it could never compare to how patient Snapdragon and Cerya have been in easing me into feeling comfortable in my body and how I am perceived enough to share these pleasures with others.


    Our Seer currently has her eyes closed as Snapdragon kneads at her breasts. I briefly wonder how long it will take for either of the rest of us to not be completely incapacitated by anything resembling a passing touch, let alone dedicated massages.


    Seeing how Cerya is already on the receiving end of another¡¯s affections, I lean towards Snapdragon.


    My eyes widen as Snapdragon turns into my advance, her lips intercepting mine.


    I freeze in place, even as her lips and breath brush ever so gently against my flesh.


    ¡°Is this okay?¡±


    I cherish her prioritization of my comfort by taking her head in my hands.


    ¡°This is the most okay I¡¯ve ever felt.¡±


    Only then does she complete the gesture.


    So¡­ That¡¯s what those feel like.


    Lenore makes a strange purring noise with our voice that we compare more to furred predators kept by Vylian nobility more than the expression of pleasure she intends. ¡°Finally. I was wondering who¡¯d be the first to steal away your first kiss.¡±


    Yeah.


    I think I really like kisses.


    Hard to think as my head spirals through recontextualization of a number of memories.


    I¡¯ll¡­ Have to be sure to give Lenore and Selescia the opportunity to do that again.


    Fia making the gesture at a mirror reminds me of how awkward I¡¯ve felt at being new to¡­ All of this.


    The last memory of a kiss to have a long delayed understanding of affection tied to it is actually the first to have occurred.


    A Castellan¡¯s icy blue lips press against my forehead as I shake and shiver and writhe¡­ Fresh from taking my first life.


    I barely even understood words back then.


    Being hardly any different from any other in my clutch at that point, I reduce myself to the memory of what it was like to be a freshly hatched broodling receiving comfort and reassurances from the Broodmother I now fear.


    Born to a life of darkness and expected to survive by any means necessary.


    As a wretched Prince now turned beloved Princess, I know better now.


    I am the only broodling of my clutch to escape the Depths alive.


    It is enough to change how I feel about the gesture, at least in the moment.


    My conclusions demand that I scream.


    Positions are adjusted to account for a cry of genuine distress.


    What I struggle to explain, Lenore offers her own recounting.


    Recovering takes a while, but we learn that it is far easier to open up in a safe environment.


    It becomes even easier to let go of the problems that will persist long after we leave this bath.


    In the arms of those I love, every scream that follows is welcomed by gently negotiated pleasures.

 Chapter 31 – Reclaiming the Bodies Forced Upon Us (18+)

    Ayre


    ¡°I¡¯ve got you.¡± Cerya¡¯s reassuring voice guides us through the receding waves of sensations that still cause us to cling to her for support.


    It takes more than a moment to catch my breath as what feels like entire days of tension drain out of me through a part of my body long considered unwanted.


    To think just minutes ago I considered Lenore''s slit a wound that would never close. Even with Lenore¡¯s memories, it has been hard to think of her parts of our body as anything other than inflicted upon me.


    It is only in my more isolating thoughts that Lenore releases me to feel what I need to feel before casting old wounds aside. To have her rejoin in sharing my senses where I becomes we is always a welcome comfort. Figuring out how to enjoy this patchwork body that is changing on us faster than we can reclaim it has been a fretful process that has somehow remained... Largely enjoyable.


    I''ve got Snapdragon and Cerya to thank for that.


    Depths, and Cerya is still knuckle deep inside us. Her own satisfaction radiates ever brighter over the noises our throat makes in response to her withdrawing fingers. That our shudders only intensify as we grip at her for support earns us a nibble at our neck.


    We can¡¯t take it anymore. The intensity of stimulation is on par with some of the more grievous wounds we¡¯ve received. Seeing as there is nothing to heal, the blood rushing throughout our body has had to constantly find new outlets or demand we calm ourselves. When the pleasure hits its peak, it is almost debilitating as we are reduced to an involuntary fit of writhing with need settling into unimaginable satisfaction.


    ¡°Oh. Depths that¡¯s enough. That¡¯s¡­ I regret to admit that it is more than we can take.¡± We manage what words we can between hitched breaths and our heart thrumming. ¡°For now at least.¡± Wanting to assure Cerya that we don¡¯t intend for this to be a one time thing. We¡­ Depths we¡¯re a mess of sweat in spite of the bath.


    It¡¯s enough that we receive yet another brief scrubbing that doubles as a massage from Snapdragon. To have her find the knots of stress and rub at the delicate spaces where I end and Lenore begins is something we¡¯ve never thought we would enjoy. So much so that we find ourselves purring with delight long before she is finished with us.


    We spend the time reflecting on how good we feel despite being able to count the marks left by fingers, teeth, and bumping into the bath¡¯s walls that we¡¯ve accumulated. Thankfully both of them were mindful of the exposed neck and back of the dress we''ll soon be wearing. We''ll just have to wear our hair over our right shoulder to cover what remains visible.


    When at last our breathing settles, Cerya closes the distance between us. With her fingers pinching at our chin and tilting us up to meet her gaze, our constant self reflection begins to slow.


    ¡°Is this too much?¡± Cerya whispers before sinking teeth into her lip in thought. ¡°We can always try something¡­ Less intense in the future.¡±


    ¡°No. Just¡­ Unexpectedly intense.¡± I admit as my voice softens. Only having Cerya to focus on actually helps us calm down in a way I belatedly attribute to how she must handle Snapdragon.


    My admission earns me a soft smile spreading across Cerya¡¯s lips.


    To think I did not even have to feed on Snapdragon to sympathize with how she needed to excuse herself from the exchange of pleasure lingers in my mind as a potential sign of improvement. Even as I struggle to imagine what this must have been like for her, her withdrawal from receiving pleasure did not mean declining to bite and nip at our body''s many sensitive spots.


    The last time I needed a rest, Snapdragon occupied Cerya by lowering her head between our Seer''s legs. Which I could have understood if she began and ended with leg kisses. But the noises Cerya treated the both of us to as Snapdragon applied heated breaths, sensual lips, and a dedicated tongue to Cerya''s folds is something I hope to never forget.


    I very nervously declined having the same affections upon me as Cerya continued to convulse with a look of bewildered satisfaction on her face.


    "Maybe another time." I offered Snapdragon, my own expression uncertain.


    Ever the patient and understanding partner, Snapdragon did not press me.


    To see the two of them be just as gentle and tender with each other as they are with me eases some lingering doubt I could not voice. But now? I take great comfort in knowing that I am not some scar ridden oddity of a creature who needs extra attention or accommodation. I can just exist in this space knowing I can partake in as much love and affection as I desire.


    Besides, Cerya seems more than capable of withstanding enough pleasure for the three of us, having reached enough climaxes to incapacitate both Snapdragon and I.  My eyes narrow at Cerya in the present as I wonder how she manages it. ¡°I just don¡¯t see how you recover in time to crave that¡­ Experience a second time.¡± Let alone a third.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Her response is to preen while Snapdragon stifles a laugh.


    Drying off is a prolonged affair where everyone receives help with their hair while towels soak up most of the remaining moisture on our bodies.


    ¡°I¡¯m proud of you, actually.¡± Snapdragon turns from her stump to add her voice to the reassurances before taking the opportunity to help me towel off my back. ¡°I wasn¡¯t sure if we were going to get anything more out of you than warming you up to the idea.¡± She somehow manages to find yet another knot of tension to massage that she missed in the bath.


    Lenore steals our voice to express her approval with another deep purr. ¡°You two did great. Got my sister to go all the way on their first try!¡±


    I¡­ allow my shoulders to slump, only half from the massage robbing me of any remaining tension. If I intended to push through the rest of this day without a nap before, there is no way I''ll manage now. ¡°It¡¯s one thing to sample the memories of others. It is another entirely to have you all convince me that I am worthwhile to include in the joy of making my own memories with the both of you.¡±


    ¡°Well said.¡± Lenore is the first to reply, urging our body to stretch before saying her goodbyes. ¡°Right, I don¡¯t wanna push my presence here. Our blood reserves aren¡¯t infinite.¡±


    Cerya looks up at us, gently reaching out to stroke at our chin. ¡°Are you sure about that? We could arrange for any number of sources for you to feed upon.¡±


    I want to lean into the touch. Lenore takes it a step further, taking Cerya¡¯s finger between our teeth with a growl. ¡°I worry Ayre will take you up on that offer.¡±


    Our Seer moans ever so softly before replying with a delighted lilt to her voice. ¡°Would that be so bad?¡±


    We taste flesh with a playful stroke of the tongue before considering it best to withdraw. ¡°We¡­ Genuinely don¡¯t know. Feeding has always been something that demands careful consideration." Unlike so much of our experiences honed in the depths, the blood hunger still remains new to manage. Would it be a mistake to swing wildly from depriving ourselves to being overly indulgent? "We think we want to keep taking it slow."


    Snapdragon rests her head on our shoulder, sliding arms gently around us. ¡°That the two of you are in agreement is all that matters. Know that whatever you conclude, you have the support of loved ones who will accept you no matter what.¡±


    ¡°We know. We¡¯re not alone.¡± We intone, leaning into Snapdragon¡¯s embrace while pulling Cerya closer. ¡°There¡¯s a part of us that hopes there is a way to give back as much as we take. That, and we hope it gets easier for us to open up in the future.¡±


    ¡°If there is, we¡¯ll figure it out together. Besides, now that you are mine, we¡¯ll have plenty of time.¡± Cerya reaches around me, nuzzling deeper into my chest while aiming affectionate touches at Snapdragon.


    ¡°It would mean a lot.¡± We confirm.


    Snapdragon¡¯s voice comes out strained. ¡°Yeah. I don¡¯t know if I¡¯d want to go full dragon. But I don¡¯t not want it, if that makes sense.¡±


    We laugh. It is a nervous thing brought on by hearing our thoughts voiced by another.


    To admit such aloud comes far easier to Lenore. ¡°Ayre has been harboring much the same feelings.¡±


    I hiss in response, but not too harshly. Just because Lenore and I are overly familiar doesn¡¯t mean I¡­ No. I find myself really not minding all that much.


    It is just going to take me time to drop the defensive instincts.


    Lenore says her goodbyes in earnest, voicing one final request that has long been little more than an unaddressed observation. ¡°Oh, and if any of you get the chance, figure out how Astraea got our blood flowing without hurting us.¡±


    Cerya¡¯s eyes widen. The implication of calling Lenore without demanding we be hurt or hurt ourselves registering with clear interest. ¡°Of course!¡±


    I roll my eyes. ¡°Lenore just signed me up for being poked and prodded, didn¡¯t she?¡±


    Cerya withdraws her arms, only to hook them around our neck while flashing a playful smile. ¡°We¡¯re already going to be squeezing you into a dress that was picked out before you started growing breasts. Although I could be persuaded to be gentle, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re worried about.¡±


    Oh, right. I have that to look forward to as well. Everyone here has done so much for me.


    Snapdragon stifles a laugh. ¡°We should probably be giving up the bath.¡±


    Our Seer does not hide an impish smile. ¡°Theriya is rather used to me hogging this space.¡± She takes a long moment preen under the affectionate touches of both of her loves before pulling away to help the rest of us to our feet now that we¡¯re all mostly died off.


    I shake my head with a sigh. ¡°It¡¯s alright. At this point I half expect Fia to have given herself a wet towel bath to minimize her needs conflicting with others she deems more important.¡± There is more remorse in my words than I intend. My dolls have gone long enough without receiving my attention. It is long overdue for me to address them.


    ¡°What a sweetheart.¡± Snapdragon whispers with a pinch of her own concern.


    Right as Cerya titters. ¡°Remind me to spoil her later, would you?¡±


    Snapdragon nods immediately. ¡°After she helped us fend of a drake? I¡¯ll do more than remind you.¡±


    I stare long and hard at these two girls. Long enough that they both give me a playful tug to get along with our day. ¡°I really am unsure if I have the words to express how immensely I appreciate the two of you. Fia, Selescia, and Lenore all mean the world to me. I just¡­ I¡¯ve always wanted to do better by them.¡±


    ¡°It will be much easier to do that if we take care of you.¡± Cerya says with what I can only describe as a hopeful smile.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry so much. You¡¯ll have ample time to show your appreciation later.¡± Snapdragon aims a confident wink in my direction as she moves to fetch a pile of gowns to serve until we¡¯re all dressed up for today¡¯s binding ceremony. ¡°If you need time with your girls, I¡¯ll keep Theriya distracted long enough to save the fussing for later.¡±


    All the words that immediately spring to mind are either a refrain or inadequate. After a moment¡¯s thought, I reach for words I never thought I¡¯d consider.


    Every interaction up until now has been a calculated risk.


    It is no small relief to feel like I no longer need worry. Not here. Not with them.


    ¡°I need the both of you to know that I appreciate everything you do and the reasons you have given for doing so. I¡¯ve never allowed myself to love anyone since¡­¡± My vision turns blurry, but I don¡¯t let it stop me. I can¡¯t. I need to put this into words. ¡°Losing Lenore. It¡­ I just...¡±


    I run out of words.


    Neither Cerya nor Snapdragon run out of affection and reassurance that they are willing to share with me.

 Chapter 32 - Beyond any Shadow of Lingering Doubts

    Ayre


    I find myself entering Cerya¡¯s petal chamber to find a quiet place to compose myself while Snapdragon fetches my dolls.


    My hands delicately grip a hand mirror lined with various gemstones. I¡¯ve not given any part of it too close a look in order to avoid my reflection, but onyx and a variety of quartz stones seemed the most prominent at a glance.


    Mirrors are always a coin toss between whether I¡¯m going to feel proud of how far I¡¯ve come or focus on something I can¡¯t stand seeing.


    As if by way of comfort, my Seer¡¯s words whisper as sweetly in memory as when she  pressed the first step of bodily transition into my hands.


    ¡°If I may, I would like to start by making good on my sister¡¯s offer. Make some time to reflect on this before today¡¯s ceremonies, okay? If you¡¯re feeling up to it, you can consign anything you don¡¯t like to stone. Again, Theriya and I would be happy to walk you through this process. I just thought you might appreciate some time to decide for yourself if you and Lenore would like to go over how your body is already changing.¡±


    I¡¯ve been afraid to look.


    Thankfully, I can put it off for a while yet.


    Upon arrival, Fia and Selescia are quick to take me by the arm and urge me in the direction of the petal bed.


    ¡°You¡¯re shaking.¡± Selescia remarks, her voice sharp and pointed as she casts a warning glare at Fia.


    Interesting. And here I thought her first concern would be my body¡¯s changes.


    Fia purses her lips in a pout, but says nothing.


    I guess they have had ample time with which to speak in regards to recent events. My dolls receive an easy smile from me as I wave off their concern. ¡°I got more comfortable with Cerya and Snapdragon than I expected.¡±


    Fia seems to light up while Selescia only grows more concerned.


    Selescia¡¯s voice falls to a whisper. ¡°Do you want to talk about it?¡±


    I set my hand mirror to the side before gesturing for my dolls to take a seat alongside me. That they must so often be invited to share in any comfort in my presence is something I have long since made peace with. Why show annoyance or impatience when doing so risks one of them thinking they have done wrong?


    We share horrific circumstances that demand we adapt. They do not deserve to be punished or made to feel bad that they have not quickly discarded the behaviors and conformity to expectations that have kept us all alive up until now.


    I turn the question back on Selescia. ¡°I¡¯ve already received the support I need. But you look like you¡¯ve got your own worries.¡±


    Fia chirps up. ¡°See? Ayre has our interests at heart!¡±


    She does not call me Master, and yet I still flinch at the sound of her voice. I give Fia an apologetic look to assure her that she¡­ Hasn¡¯t done wrong. Not in that moment, at least.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± Selescia opens with an unexpected apology of her own. ¡°I turned the first night we were here over in my head and just took the lead. You asked us to come up with concessions or reservations we might have so that you could make a good impression on the Seers and I thought¡­¡± Her voice trails off, biting into her cheek as she clamps her mouth shut. After a moment, she signals wordless permission to reply.


    First, I present a hand, laying mine within reach without any further prompting.


    Snapdragon and Cerya have given me so much to think on. It is nice to finally have an opportunity to put into practice how I think I can guide my relationship with my dolls into a shape that addresses scars most would consider invisible.


    As far as accommodations go, I¡¯d like to find some way to convince them that they are under no obligation to me. ¡°I¡¯m not upset.¡± I say, keeping my voice warm and gentle.


    Selescia snaps back as she folds her hands into her lap ¡°I think it would be healthier if you were. I pushed myself at you instead of doing what you asked!¡±


    I reach out my other hand to comfort Fia, who flinched away as an immediate response to Selescia raising her voice. But I keep my voice level even as I cast my memory back to our first night here. ¡°Because you thought it would better convince the Seers that you are more than just a doll. I can understand your thinking at least.¡±


    Selescia narrows her eyes. ¡°So the end justifies the means? What makes me different? Why am I given a free pass to go against your words and hurt you when Astraea is not? Why do you put up with¡­¡± Again she bites back the next words, but a glance at Fia is all the allusion I need.


    I meet her gaze unflinchingly. ¡°No. When faced with pain, death, and punishment, the ends or means have long been defined for us. How are we supposed to trust that anything else will work?¡± Even here, in Lunaria, dissenting knowledge is consigned to flames instead of stonework. I reach instead for a more familiar explanation. ¡°Our situation is why Lenore and I promised to take the both of you away from that horrid place.¡±


    ¡°As friends.¡± Fia whispers, distraught. ¡°Nothing more. Not while you have the Seers and Snapdragon.¡±


    A small subject change, but no matter. ¡°What makes the both of you different is that you¡¯ve both lived your entire lives knowing that you would be little more than blood to me and my siblings.¡± They both take my hands now as I speak, making my point for me but in ways I¡¯m sure they think is reassuring. ¡°I¡¯m upset with Astraea because she intended to steal away Lenore and I, to deny me and anyone else a say in my fate. In doing so, she would leave the rest of you to fend for yourselves. And none of you are equipped for that.¡±You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    I hear their protests, having already largely expected what I would hear.


    This is just how it is. Need it be so?


    Why bother with us? Why waste your early development on conditioning and not teach you skills that would be useful to us beyond blood?


    I simply shake my head in negation.


    ¡°It¡¯s really quite simple, even if solutions are anything but. I¡¯m the one who can take a spear to the heart and walk it off. It¡¯s not fair that Astraea, my siblings, and I are capable of so much while the both of you were taught to be subservient. You two face consequences that swiftly become harsher and stricter than any accommodations that would seek to purchase my goodwill before I face any lasting reprisal. I just¡­ Easing your burdens isn¡¯t enough. I want better for the both of you.¡±


    And just to drive the point home, I pry my hands from the grasp of my dolls with ease. Not that I¡¯d hurt them when I know that they are very sensitive to how I sometimes respond to unwanted touch.


    Both of them are quick to release me.


    ¡°I¡¯d like to start over. With the both of you.¡± I say, uncertain of my words all of a sudden. ¡°Astraea has a goddess to intercede on her behalf, for whatever that¡¯s worth. But she should know better than to act in ways that decide what I¡¯m allowed to do and be. I can¡¯t expect that out of either of you. So I¡¯d rather we be strangers.¡±


    Fia shrinks away from me. ¡°This one doesn¡¯t think that¡¯s fair.¡±


    ¡°I know. But we¡¯re finally in a place where we can start to address that. I don¡¯t want to be your Master or Mistress. If anything¡­¡± I find myself upset all of a sudden as I realize what I was about to say.


    I¡¯d rather be their protector, like Astraea.


    ¡°Very well.¡± Selescia decides to take my words in stride. ¡°In that case I will strive to model myself after dolls kept by your elder siblings long enough to manage minor functions in running Vylia¡¯s territories.¡±


    I nod my head as I will myself to settle for Selescia volunteering to make herself useful in other ways. If anything, I could probably raise the topic of conversation with Threnodias. It is his dolls that Selescia is most likely thinking of, afterall.


    I turn to Fia. ¡°I know that last night took a lot out of you. But Snapdragon spoke quite highly of you.¡±


    Predictably, a little praise is all Fia needs to perk up. What surprises me is a hint of suspicion in her expression. ¡°This one has no desire to serve as a Watcher. This one is content with her place as your doll.¡±


    Selescia is the one to offer her reassurance. ¡°You realize that Ayre is still going to be expected to feed on us in order to guarantee their promise to us. We still have a role in the eyes of other Vylians that we can ill afford to be seen fulfilling.¡±


    Fia gives me a pleading look before I encourage her to cling to once again cling to arm for comfort.


    Maybe it¡¯s better I offer her this last easily offered comfort as I negotiate this change. Besides, I could think of a few words I¡¯ve long intended for Fia¡¯s ears. ¡°You and I have been through too much to part at this point. I need you to understand that I¡¯m not trying to get rid of you.¡±


    ¡°If you say so.¡± Fia whispers, tightening her grip.


    ¡°Our relationship began with the two of us at each other¡¯s throats in the depths of a place none of my closest siblings survived.¡± I reach out to gently take Fia by the chin and meet her gaze. ¡°I am changing now because I want to, not because the rest of my wretched family demands it. To that end, just because I want to break this perception that you are a possession and resource to be used does not mean that you are unwanted.¡±


    ¡°This one isn¡¯t sure it¡­ she¡­ I¡­ sorry. This is not something that comes naturally to this one.¡± Fia glares her own defiant daggers in Selescia¡¯s direction before continuing. ¡°But, this one is aware that her words have hurt you. If you will allow this one a final indiscretion, you sounded like Astraea just now and this one doesn¡¯t know if that was intended.¡±


    I take a deep breath. ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re probably right. And just so we¡¯re clear, I forgive you, Fia.¡± I mean it, without a second thought. ¡°I just want to guarantee as much independence for the three of us as I can. If speaking as a doll remains the most comfortable, don¡¯t let Selescia adapting how she speaks or anything I¡¯m going through pressure you to change who you are, okay?¡±


    ¡°If that is an order, then this one will comply.¡± Fia stammers out before blinking thrice in quick succession. ¡°Oh! So long as this one can remain yours, of course.¡±


    I fight against the urge to sigh. ¡°If that is what you want, we¡¯ll resolve whatever gets in the way of that. But we¡¯ll agree together, not because I¡¯m giving you orders to do so.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± Fia says with a smile that falters. ¡°This one will¡­ Try, at least.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s all I think I can ask at this point.¡± I assure her. ¡°I¡¯m sorry if none of this is what you want to hear.¡±


    ¡°No Princess.¡± Fia says, catching me off guard with the change in address. ¡°Selescia helped this one understand some things. But this one is going to need some time to adapt to being yours while not being owned.¡±


    ¡°Take all the time you need. Okay? I meant it when I said that I wanted the two of you to come up with accommodations and concessions that make the both of you feel more comfortable around me.¡±


    Fia nods her understanding. ¡°This one would like to not be fed upon while I¡­ While this one thinks about everything.¡±


    ¡°Of course. Easily granted.¡± I say, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. Hearing her list a single request is enough for me to feel relief that I¡¯m handling this well. ¡°Cerya can apparently arrange for me to be supplied with other blood sources if it is needed.¡± I turn to Selescia, unsure how much Fia caught her up on. ¡°Fia here is already aware of some high and mighty Watcher intending to capture a Naga for the purposes of impressing me.¡±


    Selescia raises an eyebrow before giving me a thoughtful look. ¡°But you¡¯re not going to replace us entirely to avoid any chance at us being given to another of your siblings¡±


    I laugh before shaking my head. ¡°No, of course not. I could never replace the two of you. Nor could I stand by and watch as someone attempts to take or hurt you. If anything I¡¯m just as hesitant to feed on some stranger made prisoner for the purposes of prolonging my body¡¯s changes.¡±


    Selescia loops a finger through her hair as she gives me a pointed look. ¡°In that case, we¡¯ll welcome this third doll of yours with open arms.¡±


    She successfully cracks through my composure by eliciting a grimace. ¡°From this point forward, the two of you are dolls in name only. I can¡¯t force us to be equals, but I think it would be healthier if we had some long talks about what each of us is and isn¡¯t okay with.¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡± Selescia intones. ¡°It didn¡¯t take you long to slip back into making demands, did it? Mistress.¡±


    I wince, but the teasing smile she flashes at me is enough to respond in kind. ¡°Teasing is an acceptable start. Just be mindful that this is all just something to think about until my siblings depart from the grove.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± Selescia rises to her feet. ¡°In that case I must insist that we continue this conversation while preparing you for the day¡¯s ceremonies. I¡¯ve been told that your dress might not fit you comfortably. It might cost some aesthetics, but I could probably cut and resew if more room is needed in places.¡±


    She takes to commanding me around quickly enough at least.


    ¡°I¡¯d appreciate that.¡± I say in reply.


    Fia is quick to help me to my feet.


    I almost forget to turn back and grab the hand mirror.


    And in that brief lapse of aversion, I see my mother reflected back at me in the shadows cast by the dim light of the room¡¯s glimmer stones..


    My heart skips a beat.


    Discomfort stretches between one heartbeat and another, intensifying as something else about my biology picks up the slack. Blood is forced through my veins with an intensity and casual disdain for my heart¡¯s momentary lapse of purpose.


    I blink, and the moment passes.


    But an unkind thought lingers. And where there is one, others are quick to follow.


    What if I am the unwanted parasite clinging to a body long ago cleaved into two?


    For what reason or purpose were Lenore and I stitched back together as one?


    Why grant us the necessity, let alone the unknown capacity, to drain the lives of others?


    If I¡¯m to even begin to understand the shadow cast by my mother''s unknown intent, I¡¯ll need to start by making myself presentable for the siblings I must confront.


    But first, it¡¯s time to take a long look in the mirror as I confront everything I am becoming.

 Chapter 33 - In Search of What no Coin can Measure

    Amari


    I do not find Astraea in the room I have purchased a temporary claim to.


    In her place is a bag, freshly and haphazardly packed.


    Everything one might need for travel, personal tokens reduced to only the most important. The things I could learn if I so much as loosened the bag enough for a peak within.


    Instead I tighten the straps and give it a look over for holes to ensure it holds up.


    I am left with a feeling of nostalgia.


    Simpler times.


    My sisters and I could carry everything we cared for on our backs.


    The only pack that mattered was each other.


    Together we were safe.


    Alone? My safety hinges upon what coin, promises, and words I exchange with others.


    My sisters remain under the protection of a patron we did not ask for.


    As the most capable of my pack, Prince Threnodias affords me a long leash. He may call it what he wants, setting expectations as favors to be paid with enough slack to see that his ends are achieved properly and safely. Until the debt he claims I owe is paid.


    I remain ever at risk of angering those with enough power to kill me and mine with scarcely more than a thought. He can call our relationship whatever he likes.


    My debt to him remains a leash I fear cannot be escaped without help.


    And I have been getting so tired of the idea of a collar around my throat. If nothing else, entrusting Ayre with a token of my burdens will convince my sisters that they have the pact¡¯s interests in mind.


    That they are freed is all that matters. Ideally, I am there to smooth things over and maybe get Astraea¡¯s help in preventing my sisters from lashing out at their savior.


    But there are no guarantees where confronting so many of Ayre¡¯s siblings is concerned.


    It is almost enough to just turn a blind eye to wherever Lady Wyrmsbane has gone or plans to go. There is value in cutting my losses and making do with those I know I can count on or bend to my ends.


    But what of Astraea? She communes with Lady Midnight on a daily basis, whose hands and voice can manifest to express her displeasure at a moment¡¯s notice. While I am sure Astraea is quite capable without whatever divine gifts she wields, a Goddess can do so much more than simply deny her access to her gifts.


    What does it look like when a patron goddess of redemption revokes her favor?


    If Astraea is committed to lifting me of my burden, the least I can do is look into any potential abuses by her goddess.


    So many questions demand consideration as I puzzle together where Astraea might be found.


    Thankfully asking after a tall horned girl with skin that takes after flowers in scent and coloration gets me the answer I want from the first Lunarian I ask.


    Although purchasing a bite to eat and a quick drink certainly helps to ease the temperament of most. The owner of this particular den for travelers is no different in that regard.


    ¡°Wyrmsbane paid for a basin of water to clean up before rushing off to have her gear maintained. She even overpaid like you do, as if I didn¡¯t have a vested interest in addressing her being covered in blood in front of my morning patrons.¡±


    I offer up a toothless smile. ¡°She is one of those pirate types to whom money comes and goes.¡± I magnanimously neglect to mention that Astraea is allegedly royalty in her own right. And to an old Storm King of pirates no less!


    If Astraea is going to be in a mood, the least I can do is explain it away on something harmless enough for a hired sword.


    ¡°Just remind her of her place, yeah? Or she can find somewhere else to sleep.¡± Comes a nakedly hostile reply.


    It is almost a shame that Ayre was arranged to be bound to a bunch of close minded elves with a flair for burning books from the old world. But for now I suppose I can hold my tongue until someone inevitably realizes how useful my illusory carriage is. Better that conversation is saved for when Ayre is dispatched to resolve some far away threat. We don¡¯t want to be within hearing range of anyone so readily willing to engage in sudden acts of violence at the slightest provocation.


    My nose suggests I am on the right track long before the forges come into view.


    The crafting quarters surprises me in that it is not located along any of the main roads. I feel obliged to question their placement as someone who spends her time peddling wares and information. Or maybe their proximity to the barracks explains what keeps these Lunarians needlessly busy.


    ¡°Step aside, foul beast!¡± An imperious voice gets my attention. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    To even think poorly of the pointy eared devils and behold they arrive to call me a monster!


    The looks I get as I am slow to clear the way are more than hostile, but they subside the moment I am no longer an obstacle.


    I look on in amusement as Lunarians young and old carry all manner of accommodations for a prolonged elven ceremony. Material for impromptu outdoor shelters, all manner of seating, bedding, and food.


    To my surprise, not one of them spares me a second look.


    How many societies that think themselves civilized would put me to the sword or put a bounty on my head for the crime of being more beast than woman? I might not exactly feel welcome here, but I am very distinctly tolerated so long as I stay out of the way.


    It is more than I or my war form would earn me elsewhere. I¡¯ve heard a number of harsher things leveled at Ayre, but not once has anyone here described or treated us like either of us is feral and needs to be put down.


    I try not to think of how few places outside either of these imperial lands would tolerate Ayre or their blood hunger. Or the one instance that did end with spears pointed at Ayre. That moment had been personal, I tell myself as I try to shake away the memory.


    More than once does losing myself in thought lead to impatient demands that I step aside as preparations are funneled into the grove¡¯s center. I noticed precious little in the way of decoration, musical instruments, or artistic crafts. After the last cart before turning off the main road, I feel compelled to revise my estimation of the Lunarians.


    Whatever they have in mind, it is hardly going to be an elven ceremony at all, is it?


    It does not take long before I reach what looks like an armory nestled within a cluster of buildings intended to stock it.


    The forge, sweat, and a familiar floral scent quickly narrow down the objective of my search to a corner smithy.


    As I approach the door, another scent entirely causes me to stop in my tracks. The door opens before I can decide to double back.


    A woman with the pale complexion of someone who has spent far too long living in Vylia¡¯s shadow and arms thick with enough muscle to fold me into a bundle of fur barks at me with impatience. ¡°Outsiders can purchase arms and tools over by the armory. I¡¯m busy, yeah?¡±


    That she would otherwise be naked were it not for an apron showing off every curve of fat and muscle of her frame has nothing to do with her irritation. Or at least I¡¯m mostly sure. Before I can make a calculated reply, a familiar voice saves me the trouble.


    Astraea, sounding weary and disheartened, calls out from deep within the building¡¯s interior. ¡°She¡¯s a friend, Idra. Don¡¯t send her away on my account.¡±


    Idra crosses her arms and blows aside a curl of brown hair as she weighs turning me away regardless. In doing so, however, she reveals the tattoo of a Sea bound Siren artfully applied just beneath her shoulder by a careful hand.


    I allow my eyes to linger on it before showing my teeth in a mischievous smile.


    Idra sighs before the words leave my mouth.


    No sense letting the opportunity pass me by. ¡°You two are a long way from the sea.¡±


    ¡°I go where my craft is respected.¡± Idra replies, her voice hard and unflinching.


    ¡°Sure, sure. Did you enjoy catching up with your captain?¡± I try so hard not to widen my smile.


    The way she stops to reassess me as not an intruder she needs to be wary of, but someone with a mutual friend?


    Priceless.


    Her eyes spare a downwards look as she reassesses me.


    I allow myself to indulge in an expression more befitting a wolf than a fox.


    ¡°In.¡± She barks in a gruff voice, before closing the door behind me.


    Almost immediately I spot a number of amusing contradictions. Coins and crates with markings from any number of nations fill the room. I imagine it must be an annoying inconvenience for any imperial nation to rely on this many foreign imports.


    Maybe the crafting quarters are best placed off the main roads afterall.


    My gaze quickly finds a symbol that matches the contract Astraea handed to me, a set of scales balanced upon a Siren¡¯s hand denoting an affiliation with the Fevir Sea Trading Company.


    I¡¯m sure there is no relation to the Fevir Sea Sirens, pirate band of old, from before the shattering of the old world.


    Following my gaze, Idra addresses me directly and professionally. ¡°As you¡¯ve doubtless realized, I am willing to satisfy any agreed contract you¡¯ve fulfilled with Lady Wyrmsbane. Provided your terms were in coin or smithed goods. Otherwise, we can talk of arrangements.¡±


    ¡°Just coin will suffice.¡± I assure her. ¡°Although I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t have the contract on me.¡±


    My smile turns innocent as Astraea steps into the room, wearing only a towel and a spaded tail both wrapped around her waist, one securing another.


    ¡°No matter.¡± Astraea mumbles in a fragile voice. ¡°Both parties are here. We can just hash it out and record it in writing.¡±


    Idra cocks an eyebrow. ¡°And just let the fox get away with a second contract to cash in elsewhere?¡±


    Astreaea doesn¡¯t miss a beat.


    ¡°If she needs it. If it will help.¡± Astraea¡¯s eyes meet mine as she reaches up to massage the back of her neck. No attempt is made to hide the wince of pain or the ugly bruising. ¡°If you can do enough good here that I no longer can, yeah. I¡¯m okay with you double dipping.¡±


    I knew there was a dedication to her that I liked.


    Idra growls in protest. ¡°Sosima isn¡¯t going to like this.¡±


    Astraea sighs. ¡°It¡¯s fine. I¡¯m¡­ Not wanted here anymore. I¡¯ll tell her myself.¡±


    And just like that, Idra¡¯s everything softens in response. ¡°Okay then.¡±


    I get the distinct impression from the look of unexpected relief on Idra¡¯s face that Astraea just caved into an argument. This Sosima on the other hand is definitely a soft spot to keep in mind.


    ¡°It¡¯ll be good to see her again.¡± Astraea admits softly as her gaze falls to a pair of empty glasses and half a bottle of spirits on the counter. ¡°I don¡¯t need you to tell me how much she worries.¡±


    I feel like I should say something. ¡°If you don¡¯t want Ayre to know¡­¡± I make an offer I probably shouldn¡¯t. ¡°I can cover for you. Distract, lie by omission, you need but name a request.¡± But she is paying me a second time on top of helping me free my sisters. For that? I¡¯m willing to be generous.


    ¡°No.¡± Astraea shakes her head. ¡°I regret how things played out. But I still want to do right by the Princess before departing.¡±


    That gets a scoff out of Idra, who steps away long enough to pull on a pair of trousers and return with a contract.


    I am pleased to admit that I only stared after her for a few moments. Both of these women are bigger than me in such exciting ways. Astraea gives me a look, demanding I try to convince her without words that I¡¯m remaining quite demure.


    If they decide to punish me for it, I will be good and accept my fate.


    Alas, neither of them make any allusions toward showing any intent to do so.


    ¡°If you two can put your fantasizing on hold, I¡¯ve got a long list of orders to get to.¡± Idra rolls an eye in my direction. ¡°Besides, don¡¯t the two of you have places to be?¡±


    Astraea shakes her head but pulls up a chair and quill to fill out what Idra spreads in front of her. ¡°We¡¯ve a while yet. The eldest of Ayre¡¯s siblings is keeping the others on a tight leash. They¡¯re still arranging accommodations for the duration of their stay.¡±


    I nod in observance to evidence that she has been continuing to work in the interests of both Ayre and I.


    ¡°Right.¡± Idra says, not even giving the illusion of being convinced. ¡°If you need me, Astraea, I¡¯ll be making preparations. Just gimme a shout, alright?¡±


    ¡°I will.¡±


    The two of us are left alone.


    Astraea pours herself a drink before sitting down to fill out another contract between us.


    It is not the coin I¡¯m after, but there is no reason why I cannot find a good use for it.

 Chapter 34 - A Life Measured by the Love of Others

    Amari


    I decide to be patient, reasonable even, in what I ask.


    It is hard not to be delicate with Astraea now that I see the state she¡¯s in. She is putting on a brave face, but the marks on her flesh don¡¯t match the size of Idra¡¯s hands. The worst is around her neck, but the hand marks are everywhere I work up the courage to search for them.


    ¡°Is there¡­ Anything I can do for you?¡± I eventually ask, feeling helpless all of a sudden. No spectral hands manifest or smite me where I stand, so I sit down across from Astraea with the intent to hear her out.


    Astraea goes still. Her gaze unfocuses long before she works up the courage to speak.. ¡°What is left to do? We have already tried to fix¡­¡± The name Ayre dies on her lips as she denies herself the right to speak it.


    I¡­ Focus on maintaining the appearance of being supportive. Any judgements I have are secondary to anything I can do to ensure Astraea is okay. ¡°Your side is worth hearing. If there is any doubt, I encourage you to push through them.¡±


    Astraea tries and fails to hold my gaze. ¡°She really tried to. Didn¡¯t leave me any room to doubt her¡­ Sincerity.¡± Her voice hollows out at that. ¡°On Ayre¡¯s terms, she claimed. Her touch was intended to be a blessing freely given. A token that would prove my sincerity.¡± Her shoulders and voice fall away into a haunted whisper. ¡°We are all far too late for Ayre to live a life as anything more than¡­.¡±


    When Astraea does not elaborate, I give her a calculated nudge. ¡°What happened?¡±


    Her delicate words become a pained wail. ¡°She hurt them! Lady Midnight swore to me that she merely tried to stir whatever remained of the Divine Mantle of Life in them, to show them that they would not need us to heal themselves! And, in doing so she¡­ We only caused them pain! Enough to deepen whatever divide already exists between Ayre and Lenore¡¯s body.¡± Astraea buries her face in her hands for a moment, before silently responding to Idra rushing back into the room. ¡°If they¡¯re doing any better, it¡¯s because they fixed it without any input from me or my Goddess.¡±


    The blacksmith swiftly but gently negotiates wrapping Astraea within a tender embrace.


    Astraea continues, through panicked sobs. ¡°Senseless! Everything I¡¯ve tried to come and do here has amounted to unnecessary pain to those who have already experienced far too much!¡±


    There is a long silence after that. Idra treats Astraea like she¡¯s made of glass. The longer I think about it, the more I am inclined to think she is right to do so. So much of what I¡¯m hearing frames her Goddess as more in the wrong than Astraea. Did Astraea contest her Goddess¡¯s perspective?


    Has the Astraea I¡¯m listening to now caved in? Or are we really dealing with something that even divine gifts are struggling to resolve?


    It shouldn¡¯t be unusual at all for divine gifts to get through to even the most outwardly stubborn souls.


    When Astrea next feels compelled to speak, all emotion has drained out of her. ¡°Whatever Ayre and Lenore are now, they are no longer not what I have come to save.¡± Her voice is dry enough that Idra presses a glass into her shaking hands. Astraea spills more than a few drops, prompting Idra¡¯s firm hand to steady the glass enough for Astraea to drink.


    Idra and I are treated to a thankful ghost of a smile aimed at both of us in return.


    It is a shame I feel the need to press her further. ¡°So what¡¯s your plan?¡±


    Astraea looks at me with empty eyes. ¡°What do you mean? Weren¡¯t you listening?¡±


    I sigh, unsure of how much I should really expect out of her.. ¡°I didn¡¯t hear anything to suggest you remain unwilling to help Ayre and Lenore. Or did you never care about the people attached to your reason for being here?¡±


    ¡°Gales, Amari!¡± Idra barks in disbelief.


    I maintain a hard and unforgiving stare.


    Just a little more pressure.


    Astraea looks so small as she shrinks deeper into Idra¡¯s embrace. "She¡¯s right. I chose this. But I never wanted¡­ No. I deserve this¡­¡±


    There¡¯s the guilt I¡¯m looking for. Absolutely poisonous levels of it.


    ¡°That¡¯s enough!" I bark, this time in Astraea¡¯s defense. Only belatedly do I realize how much I have shown my fangs and elevated my voice.


    And Astraea Wyrmsbane, Midnight¡¯s Herald to the Goddess of Redemption¡­ Flinches at being interrupted.


    I¡¯m crossing lines, assuming that Astraea is old and experienced enough to shrug off¡­ A situation that is more complicated than I expected.


    She¡¯s not invincible.


    And deities aren¡¯t capable of fixing everything.


    I need a moment to calm myself before deciding on a different approach.


    Astraea tries to turn away, only for Idra to cradle her chin and nudge her into making eye contact. ¡°You made a mistake. So what?¡±


    I softly elaborate, attempting to provide context and reestablish that I¡¯m trying to help. ¡°It¡¯s when you think you know better enough to stop listening to everyone else that has me so upset with you. None of us can do this alone.¡±


    ¡°I should be able to.¡± Astraea tightens her voice around those words like they are all she has left.


    Oh Astraea.


    What is it that convinced you, even in a moment of weakness, to believe that you alone can make the only difference that matters?


    Is there something you see that we cannot?


    ¡°Oh!¡± Idra takes my thoughtful silence as permission to take a crack at Astraea as she raises an eyebrow. ¡°So you dissolve your crew to protect us and still think you can take on the world alone?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not¡­¡± Astraea sputters.


    Idra turns to me. ¡°Let me guess. Did she try and pull off something similar here? Maybe an attempt at spiriting away this Princess of yours the night before they tie the knot with the Seers?¡±


    There¡¯s no need for me to reply, not when Astraea is already taking Idra¡¯s bait.


    ¡°I let everyone down, okay? You try being a force for good and redemption for the whole world as it breaks under your watch!¡± There is the start of a fire in Astraea¡¯s eyes now. Even as her voice strains, she finds it within her to rise to her feet. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    Her indignation might only be dimly directed at Idra.


    But it¡¯s there.


    Idra passes Astraea¡¯s attention to me. ¡°Apologies, captain. I¡¯ve got her all warmed up for ya, she-fox..¡±


    I smile, holding back any other expression of amusement as I reach for the most reassuring voice I can. ¡°Astraea. You still get to choose.¡±


    Astraea snarls as she turns to me with something resembling an unvoiced accusation.


    ¡°Let me finish.¡± I make it a soft plea. ¡°We all do. Everyone here has their own areas of expertise and knowledge that helps us make better choices. In choosing what is right for Ayre, you¡¯re cutting them off the rest of the support they¡¯re starting to rely on.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what Ayre has been conditioned to respond to.¡± Astraea replies through clenched teeth and fists.


    I can see it in her eyes, that she knows what she¡¯s done is wrong.


    ¡°I know. And navigating that balance in order to accommodate Ayre earned you their trust. You should be commended for that. Your dedication is the kind of support that likely played a large part in Ayre deciding to go on and feel safe opening up to others. But the kind of change we¡¯re working toward is going to take more than just you or Ayre.¡±


    Astraea makes an exasperated sound. ¡°This is a terrible environment for Ayre!¡±


    Idra raises an eyebrow. ¡°I¡¯ve been managing just fine. Lunarian groves tend to vary wildly between the tyrants running them, but there¡¯s an acceptance of monsters here on account of the alliance with Vylia that most other places lack.¡± She thumbs at a bolt thrower on the wall with a design intended to accommodate more than just two arms. ¡°Some of em have gotta earn it, but for the right temperament? Your princess could do far worse than having the favor of Mel¡¯Viora.¡±


    Astraea looks between the two of us, straining her eyes and twisting her lips into a pained grimace. ¡°Fine. Maybe even I can be out of my depth. I wanted to get Ayre the help they need elsewhere, but you¡¯re probably right. Truth be told, I didn¡¯t expect to find a Fevir Sea company representative here. Let alone a familiar face, but I could see excuses under which we could smuggle Ayre and their dolls out.¡±


    I allow myself a wide grin of satisfaction. ¡°Where the powerful crave resources, the resourceful find opportunities.¡±


    Astraea punctuates our exchange slipping back into her chair and penning a rather princely sum into the contract. ¡°Can we just¡­ Are you both done with me yet?¡±


    I lean forward, resting my face in a hand over the counter. ¡°Only if you¡¯re ready to choose to stop beating yourself up. Forget about the rest of us if you need to.¡± I gesture to the contract. ¡°You¡¯ve already chosen to provide Ayre steady access to addressing any and all material concerns for the near future, entirely independent of those who would demand concessions for this kind of support. But the Seers really aren¡¯t too bad if you let their binding ceremony go through. There is enough grief between them that I think they¡¯ll be good for each other.¡± I sigh, before deciding to qualify that statement. ¡°Given enough time and space free from the withering gaze of their elders and¡­¡± I gesture to myself. ¡°A level head in the room, of course.¡±


    Astraea seems to relax at that as she allows herself to piece together what I have long intended. As the realizations pile up, I watch as she breathes out a sigh of relief. When she speaks, it is the voice of someone who is making peace with her situation. ¡°Idra, draft a letter to Sosima.¡±


    Idra crosses her arms, putting on a serious expression that fails to hide an alighted interest in her eyes. ¡°What do you want to say?¡±


    There¡¯s a long pause before Astraea expresses a hopeful smile. ¡°Tell her I¡¯m¡­ Coming home. Maybe thank her for looking after Jessamine on my behalf? I don¡¯t know. You can tell her I¡¯m hurting, but this isn¡¯t the lowest I¡¯ve sunk.¡±


    Idra shakes her head before spreading yet another parchment in front of Astraea. ¡°You know what? I¡¯ve decided that you¡¯re not my captain anymore. Tell her yourself.¡±


    Astraea looks at Idra, her spaded tail curling as her eyes go wide. ¡°No. That¡¯s¡­ A terrible idea. I¡¯ve been avoiding them for so long. What worth would my words have?¡±


    ¡°Astraea.¡± Idra leans over her chair, taking Astraea by the chin as she looms over her. ¡°Neither of them would be alive if it weren¡¯t for you. Were you not the first to see Sosima not as a monster, but someone sick and in need of help? Your friends would have killed Sosima without remorse had you not intervened. Jessamine would not fare much better, either having her body taken or remaining a Lich¡¯s plaything if not for your intervention.¡±


    Astraea squirms, silenced before she can issue a reply by a forceful kiss from Idra that leaves her making flustered noises.


    ¡°Astraea Bitter Heart, if you¡¯ll forgive me for using your chosen name in front of a stranger, I need this fox to know you as I do.¡± Idra¡¯s grin only widens as Astraea nods her assent. ¡°Before any acknowledged you as Lady Wyrmsbane or Bone Fist¡¯s daughter, you earned your place as captain of a condemned ship that you crewed with those others would sooner write off. Never forget that it was you who gave Sosima a new body, sprung Greed and I from prisons, bargained for Jessamine¡¯s freedom, and swept Farah off her feet in front of her inquisitor of a father¡± Idra pauses only to share a wolfish grin as her words bring Astraea to tears.


    Astraea nuzzles back into Idra¡¯s embrace, her fingers digging into the latter¡¯s muscled form. ¡°But I couldn¡¯t save Farah. And and Sosima chose s-someone else. You can¡¯t just¡­ I can¡¯t forgive myself for all of this! Not with Ayre and¡­¡±


    Idra thumbs at Astraea¡¯s cheek, catching the first of many tears. ¡°So what? You can start by choosing to tell Sosima how you feel anyway. Do I really need to remind you that your value is not measured in what you¡¯ve done for us? No one has followed you through storms and shattered lands on account of your parents or some fancy titles. It¡¯s always been on account of who you have always been that pushes you to do right when you see wrongs. Even when it¡¯s not easy. Gales, you¡¯re the one we trust most when things seem hopeless. I assure you, Astraea, all who have ever sailed with you will love and welcome you back with open arms regardless of the state you return to us in.¡±


    Astraea¡¯s breath hitches. ¡°Sosima? L-lov¡­ I don¡¯t deser¡­¡± She bites back the word with a fierce intensity as her eyes shoot in my direction, freely drawing blood without so much as a disappointed wag of my tail. ¡°I¡¯m going to struggle to accept that.¡± Are the words she settles on.


    Idra lets out a low bark of a laugh. ¡°Need I remind you that Sosima calls herself a Merchant Princess now? Who do you think she¡¯s trying to impress?¡± Idra flashes a wink in my direction, much to Astraea¡¯s protest. ¡°Greed even went on to serve as her second when you disbanded us. Do you really think a girl like Sosima, who has never for a moment failed to provide the material needs of all the lives you¡¯ve touched, is going to settle for just one wife?¡± Idra pushes the parchment more firmly into Astraea¡¯s shaking hands.


    We give Astraea all the time she needs to steady her breathing, hands, and dry her tears enough to take up the quill once more.


    ¡°Feelings. Ink.¡± Idra says with a playful growl.


    ¡°O-okay.¡± Astrea stammers. ¡°How I feel. No. How I¡¯ve always felt.¡±


    Standing over Astraea in a way that only I can see, Idra rolls her eyes as she shares a private grin with me.


    Still seated across from Astraea, I hide all but fractions of a thankful smile as my tail more openly betrays my satisfaction with this outcome.


    Idra watches for a few moments, seeming satisfied with Astraea¡¯s choice of words. ¡°And would it kill you to write to Greed¡¯s kid? Sosima isn¡¯t the only one you secured a new body and all.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± Astraea stops to sob for a moment, her tears staining the page as she pours her heart into what is turning out to be the first of many letters.


    To confirm this, Idra produces a number of more pages of parchment.


    I take this opportunity to excuse myself. My thoughts race with a newfound understanding of what must be done. Whatever our plans to save my sisters, I must ensure the cost does not demand Astraea¡¯s life.


    Sosima¡¯s coin and the resources of a proper merchant company will just have to make up the difference for what we will lose by sending Astraea home to her loved ones..


    But just in case, I think it¡¯s time I try to help Ayre pick out a proper ally or two.


    No sooner does the thought clarify my intent, a Lunarian with four spiral horns steps into the crafting quarter.


    Behind her, two Lunarians in Watcher attire wheel a pair of carts filled with drake scales in my direction.


    ¡°I do not believe we¡¯ve met.¡± The horned Lunarian says by way of greeting. ¡°I am Sapling Seer Eluned. You are one of Ayre¡¯s, yes?¡±


    In the interests of alerting Astraea and Indra, I make my reply as loud as it is formal. ¡°It is as you claim, Sapling Seer. Allow me to humbly introduce myself as a Merchant and Advisor in service to Ayre.¡± I neglect to mention that Prince Threnodias paid in enough blood to end slavery in the entirety of a neighboring republic¡¯s holdings before claiming my sisters and I as his own.


    Eluned wastes no time in getting to the point. ¡°I trust your business with the Siren Armorer Idra has concluded then?¡±


    That she hasn¡¯t immediately called me some beast, threatened me, or expressed the slightest hint of disgust is certainly a point in her favor.


    Maybe¡­ Just maybe.


    I flash her a sharp smile. ¡°Ayre¡¯s Sworn Blade will be finished with her momentarily. In the meantime, is there a question or two I can run by you about today¡¯s ceremonies?¡±


    Eluned gestures for the watchers to set down the carts before lifting her chin in my direction. ¡°I don¡¯t see why not. Seeing these scales fashioned into a gift for your Seed Prince is the only task that demands my attention before the Binding Ceremony begins in earnest. Seeing as that is more Idra''s problem than my own, I''d be happy to answer your questions. Assuming of course you''re willing to answer some of my own.¡±

 Chapter 35 - More than Mere Possessions in Eyes of the Powerful

    Fia


    This one is struggling to help Mistress fit into a dress that would have fit her comfortably not two moons ago. Although this one supposes calling Ayre Mistress feels just as sudden and difficult to adjust to.


    Or at least this one and Selescia were trying to help when a certain someone reaches around in such a way to tear the dress¡¯s back. ¡°There! We can breathe again!¡±


    This one winces. Winces!


    Dolls do not wince! Even if this one¡¯s mistress is making more bestial growls than would befit a noble.


    Vylian blood dolls are trained under threat of pain to be compliant assistants in all things, no matter the circumstances!


    ¡°Nothing a little tearing and stitching can¡¯t fix.¡± Comes a fiercely low growl that causes Selescia to cling to this one¡¯s arm. ¡°Sorry girls, gimme a moment with my sister.¡±


    Before either of us can respond, the growl of a voice is directed at the mirror.


    ¡°Just trust me on this one.¡±


    And then our Mistress turns about, causing the skirt to flare out as they spin.


    When the spin comes to a halt, their voice falls to a breathy whisper. ¡°Oh.¡±


    The deep growl returns immediately after, as if in reply to their own words. ¡°We made it. Not in the way we might have envisioned. But the four of us are the closest to freedom we have ever been.¡±


    It is one thing to hear how another shares Ayre¡¯s body. But to see them talk to themselves is¡­ Well it is more difficult to refute now that Selescia has communicated how much it means to them.


    Mistress turns their head, reaching out to brush the back of a hand along Selescia¡¯s cheek in a way that¡­ Lenore used to. ¡°Ayre is doing their best, but both of us really do want better for both of you. If not for yourselves, then to spite those who would ever think to limit the purpose of our lives, okay?¡± The way they growl the words should have the opposite effect from comfort.


    And yet¡­


    This one finds a giddy joy in the framing of a promised freedom as an act of spite.


    It doesn¡¯t make what Ayre and Lenore both want from this one any easier to provide. To live for one¡¯s self still feels like it remains outside this one¡¯s role.


    This one has for too long been content with being a necessary resource. To be used for longer and more gentler than most as a result of a kind and thoughtful Mistress felt special in ways this one dare not categorize. But such kindness as Mistress extends to this one comes at the cost of needing to protect all they extend it to.


    More loved ones means more stress and potential threats that Mistress must bear.


    It is why this one takes up what violence that this one can. To find new ways to serve means prolonging this period of kindness in Mistress Ayre¡¯s life.


    There is no way this ends without someone being broken, discarded, or sacrificed.


    And yet here Mistress Lenore supposedly is, sharing their sibling¡¯s body.


    The how and why is beyond this one to understand. But knowing that she is here lifts a burden that Ayre has carried for far too long.


    Selescia covers her mouth in surprise, fumbling for a name she has long struggled to let go of in service to Mistress Ayre in her place.


    ¡°L-lenore?¡± She leans into her mistress¡¯s hand with freely flowing tears in her eyes.


    Everyone seems happy.


    This one should be happy too, right?


    The more this one thinks, the more this one falls back on reducing everything down to burdens and purpose. It is how this one has been trained, after all.


    Lenore may claim we are close to freedom, but it is not ours yet. And who knows how threats and stresses will change after this binding ceremony?


    It just never feels like it will be the right time for this one to risk adding another burden to Mistress¡¯s concerns.


    And yet Ayre grows beyond the dress intended to celebrate the role of¡­ Princess.


    Try as this one might to keep track of mistress Ayre¡¯s own changing needs and fears, this one remains unsure of how to adapt. To even ask would be a burden. Better to bottle it up and put on a smile.


    This one clears her throat. ¡°So, the deep voice is Mistress Lenore, while the soft voice is Mistress Ayre?¡±


    They respond with a deep throated purr I associate with Lenore. ¡°For now, yes. We¡¯re both here to an extent. It just costs us both to be awake at once.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Does it hurt you? Or do you just need more blood?¡± This one asks, immediately receiving a shake of the head from Selescia.


    ¡°Please don¡¯t offer blood needlessly.¡± Selescia chides.


    ¡°This one isn¡¯t!¡± This one swears, even now that this one knows to waste time on the subject costs us precious time with both of our Mistresses.


    ¡°It is quite alright.¡± Ayre whispers, their gaze looking down at the dress that barely fits them. ¡°Really. All this time in front of a mirror has given us time to reflect on what we want for ourselves. If anything, I crave willing blood sources that would grant me a tail or wings.¡±


    The relief in their voice causes this one to drop all other thoughts.


    Why can¡¯t this defective doll whose purpose keeps crossing with those of her Mistress hold back tears? To allow this one¡¯s mistresses to take what they need would prolong the time that Selescia and Lenore could be together.


    But to even mention it would displease Ayre and the rest would follow suit.


    This one is supposed to be thinking about what it is she wants.


    It is hard sometimes, being Ayre¡¯s doll.


    This one never receives any punishments to signal a change in behavior. It took a firm scolding from Selescia to convince this one that she was becoming a burden.


    This one just¡­ Feels so trapped in circular logic that is spiraling into desperation that can¡¯t be allowed to show! How is this one supposed to think for oneself when Ayre regularly puts the needs of others ahead of their own needs?


    The purposes of doll and royalty have just¡­ Been getting so crossed lately.


    And now that Ayre has casually mentioned other blood sources, this one is starting to wonder what room there is for a doll in the life of one who no longer wishes to be a Prince or Princess.


    A shadow is cast upon this one¡¯s face as Ayre gives us their undivided attention.


    This one buries her thoughts, before looking up to find the soft and tender expression of this one¡¯s mistress.


    ¡°Selescia.¡± Ayre calls out, in that light and airy voice they claim as theirs. It suits them, always so gentle, even when they push us away or need space. ¡°Can you go see if any of our beloved hosts can spare a needle and thread appropriate for mending this attire?¡±


    Selescia looks between the two of us with more amusement than this one thinks is fair. ¡°As you wish, Ayre.¡± And departs.


    The moment we are left alone, Ayre¡¯s expression softens. ¡°The first step is realizing you are upset. And apologize if you can accept me wanting to give you time to have your thoughts in order. But it¡¯s clear you¡¯re beginning to spiral.¡±


    This one blinks at them. Is this what rebuilding our dynamic is supposed to look like?


    This one nods.


    ¡°Next comes asking you what you''d like me to do. If you need a shoulder to lean on or have thoughts to share, I am happy to listen and wish to remain someone you can rely upon.¡±This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°What if¡­ This one''s words don''t matter?¡± Words alone fail to communicate the fretful nature that expresses itself instead in a shifting of posture.


    ¡°I care about you, Fia. Whether you were forced to or not, you were there for me in a bleak period of my life. There is an insight to your words born from experiences I would subject none others to.¡± They speak so lightly now of memories consigned to blood and stone. But there is no tell-tale sign of hunger, need, or weakness in the way they are holding themselves.


    If they are not weakened now, then what of later? ¡°But what about everyone else you keep going to for help? Is this one¡­ No longer good enough?¡±


    ¡°Fia. Of course not. But the difference is that they are under no obligation to like me.¡±


    This one feels she must protest. ¡°But they are bound to you!¡±


    Mistress waves off my words. ¡°But we need not see each other so long as our shared purposes are resolved. By taking the time to care for one another, to learn how each other hurts, they chose to come to my assistance when I needed them. Not because anyone told them to, but because they wanted to keep me.¡±


    This one stammers, brows furrowing in protest. ¡°But they could have been expected to help and still come to like you as this one does! What difference does obligation or choice make?¡±


    Ayre¡¯s voice grows taught, their posture stiffening to match. ¡°Need I remind you that it was my sworn protector who turned against me? Who threatened to take Ayre and Lenore away from all of you and left you all to fend for yourselves in the aftermath?¡±


    Mistress¡­ Certainly didn¡¯t phrase it like that. ¡°This one is¡­ Sorry.¡± Another awkward shuffle prompts an offered hand from Ayre that this one takes. ¡°This one has¡­ Tried to serve in a capacity as Snapdragon has out of obligation to ease your burdens. But it only led to injury and this one being unkind to Snapdragon in a moment when they needed support that you were not present to offer.¡±


    ¡°Fia.¡±


    This one shakes her head. ¡°No. The unkindness was just as quickly turned upon you. And there is¡­ No excuse for any of it. You deserve better!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not a question of deserving.¡± Ayre whispers.


    Only belatedly does this one realize that the hand raised to rub at their chest is likely a comforting gesture intended by Lenore.


    This one is¡­ Seriously starting to worry if she is no longer needed. ¡°Can this one ask what it is about? This one is¡­ Nearing her wit¡¯s end.¡±


    Deep breaths.


    Dolls take deep breaths when they are overwhelmed.


    And then the good ones push through. ¡°Sorry. This one is being a burden again.¡±


    ¡°My darling Fia.¡± Ayre¡¯s smile is¡­ disarming. ¡°You¡¯re spiraling with nothing to stop you from your fall short of my intervention or discipline I¡¯ve ensured you are no longer exposed to.¡±


    This one¡­ Doesn¡¯t know what to make of all that, so instead this one focuses on why their smile no longer looks familiar.


    Are their teeth growing sharper?


    Longer?


    Both. Definitely both.


    Ayre continues. ¡°I can hardly fault you for being injured and poisoned in a battle. You may not have been subjected to everything the Watchers or I have. I¡¯d nonetheless be confident in wagering that you not only picked up how to use that bolt thrower quickly, but were quick to assess which parts of the Drake could and would not be pierced by your shots. You¡¯re observant, adaptable, and more dedicated than any of my siblings would give you credit.¡±


    This one clings to Ayre¡¯s final words in order to not melt under their kindness, reaching instead for an indignant pout. ¡°But this one does not want to serve any others! ¡­Only you.¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡± They say, managing to make it sound confident. ¡°But you understand why Lenore and I want better for you, right?¡±


    This one bites at her lip instead of replying. ¡°You would rather us be Snapdragons.¡±


    Something about this one¡¯s phrasing causes Ayre¡¯s breathing to pause.


    Hurriedly, this one tries her best to elaborate. ¡°As opposed to aspiring to be a First or a Second thorn who take on all the responsibilities with pride. You would rather this one and Selescia break away from the roles intended for us.¡± This one¡¯s own voice gets quiet by the end, saying more what this one thinks Mistress would prefer to hear than what makes sense.


    Mistress smiles, their voice falling to a whisper. ¡°You remember the promise I swore to you and Selescia upon claiming the both of you as my dolls?¡±


    This one¡¯s eyes widen. An easy question! ¡°Of course! That you would never again allow either of us to be caged!¡±


    Mistress nods. ¡°I ask only because my understanding of what being caged even means has changed.¡± They loosen their grip on this one¡¯s hand, clawed fingers tracing their doll¡¯s palm as delicately as their whispered words. ¡°As such, I felt the promise worth revisiting.¡±


    Unsure of how to respond to that, this one merely smiles like a good doll.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure if you¡¯ll be easy to convince that serving me is anything but good. I just think that staying here might be bad for Snapdragon and the Seers. We may have arrived at a more accommodating place¡­¡± Their voice drifts off, eyes lingering as their claw finishes tracing the outline of this one¡¯s hand.


    This one can almost see the shape of what they are getting at, and take a chance at making comparisons that feel most apt. ¡°But for them, this grove is the court that we never felt safe in.¡±


    ¡°More or less.¡± Ayre says.


    This one is not sure what more or less refers to. ¡°Um. Can Mistress kindly explain?¡±


    Ayre sighs, but the smile they give me is an easy one. ¡°It¡¯s like you said. I¡¯d rather the two of you be a Snapdragon. But where does that leave the other nineteen Thorns? And what of the Howling Watchers? Or any others? Are they all bound to fight and die, proving themselves superior amongst their siblings until only the insufferable like Iitharna remain?¡±


    This one doesn¡¯t have an answer to that, only a growing sense of discomfort as Mistress proposes that we have, each of us, always been caged to some extent.


    A pit begins to form in this one¡¯s stomach as the scope of what is bothering Mistress Ayre begins to take shape.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± A voice cuts in like a familiar knife. ¡°I had hoped to not intrude, but did you want an answer to that question?¡±


    Ayre turns away from this one.


    A clawed grip tightens around this one¡¯s hand before tugging their doll protectively behind them.


    All so that this one need not meet the gaze of the one responsible for¡­ Everything.


    The growled response is more Lenore than Ayre. ¡°Apologies, mother. But I¡¯m a little more concerned about how you¡¯re even speaking to us.¡±


    This one shivers as an all too familiar frigid mountain chill begins to settle into the room.


    Words manifest with a terrifying weight that can be felt irregardless of volume or distance, emanating from the room¡¯s largest mirror. ¡°Scrying is something of a subtle art. Make no mistake, it is one worth learning from one of your Bound Seers before circumstances demand that distance separate you.¡±


    Mistress tenses. ¡°So you can see and hear.¡± Their eyes dart down to the hand mirror they¡¯ve dropped. ¡°Have you been¡­¡±


    ¡°Keeping tabs on you?¡± This one can almost imagine those blue lips twisting into a horrifyingly wide smile that splits the entire length of her face.


    Can¡¯t be seen clinging to Mistress.


    It would¡­ Not be of any benefit to them.


    Only this one.


    Dolls have nothing to fear, for they are but resources to be used and discarded as needed.


    ¡°No. For a favored child of mine, I will freely admit that I¡¯ve been unable to for quite some time. A reflective surface alone will do little without an understanding of the target as intimate as the distance between you.¡±


    Mistress seems to think that over for a few moments before relaxing their shoulders. ¡°I take it Grove Tender Mel¡¯Viora has spoken highly of me?¡±


    ¡°But of course. My consort and I spoke at length in order to arrive at an ideal pairing. If there are any problems with your arrangement, you need but name them to the Grove Tender or I.¡±


    Ayre shakes their head. ¡°No problems here.¡±


    ¡°Such a subtle answer. Scarce a tenmoon has passed and already you show signs of not only eating well, but maturing at a commendable pace.¡±


    The sound of the Castellan¡¯s approval is the only time this one feels safe breathing deeply.


    Mistress¡¯s clawed hand relaxes its grip enough to give a more gently reassuring squeeze. ¡°Be sure to give my regards to Mel¡¯Viora. I don¡¯t expect my changes to stop anytime soon.¡±


    That gets a long and wicked laugh out of the Castellan. ¡°I will have to thank my consort for suggesting you get away from the courtly functions. Although I must say, out of all the things I expected, seeing you happy is not one of them. Your dress suits you. Although I imagine not for long.¡±


    ¡°What were you expecting?¡± Ayre and Lenore stand firm, somehow continuing to hold a gaze with an entity that this one never could.


    ¡°Safe. Arranged to be bound to those most likely to survive plans I did not think you would want to be included in.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve already interrupted me. Why stop now? Or is Fourteenth suddenly a relevant number all of a sudden?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve grown. Always had a good head on your shoulders. It¡¯s more than enough for you to know by now that numbers ultimately mean very little beyond the purpose served in keeping each other in check.¡±


    Mistress¡¯s voice softens yet again into relief. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you¡¯ll ask me to take part in this plan if you didn¡¯t lead with it.¡±


    More sounds of the Castellan¡¯s amusement. ¡°No. Not unless you¡¯ve nurtured a sudden sympathy for the siblings I¡¯ve sent to resolve the primary purpose your Binding Ceremony is meant to disguise.¡±


    ¡°Just like that?¡± Mistress Ayre doesn¡¯t sound convinced.


    The Castellan¡¯s amusement fades. A sudden and oppressive weight is felt as she rises from her throne. ¡°You have my favor, child. But not enough to question my sincerity.¡±


    This one¡¯s knees buckle under a projection of power that puts lesser beings in their place.


    This one is not special.


    Not like the pair of Princesses who remain resolute even as the room around them groans and creaks.


    They scoff.


    Openly.


    At the Unholy Castellan!


    ¡°Very well. Then to what do I owe the pleasure of my mother¡¯s attention?¡±


    ¡°The day of your binding is intended to recognize your worth. Not as Prince or Princess, but as an heir worthy of the gifts I have inflicted upon you.¡±


    There is no hiding the growl that Lenore musters. ¡°I¡¯ll trust that you intend it as an honor and keep my¡­ Admittedly limited perspective to myself.¡±


    ¡°Rest assured, child of mine. I am quite content with the eldest already serving my interests. And your lessers already have their orders. For those of my brood who seek only favor enough to flee the roost, I merely wish to prepare accordingly.¡±


    This one shudders in her powerlessness.


    Ayre takes a deep breath.


    They submit to the weight of pressure in the room long enough to kneel down and caress my cheek. ¡°Do you trust me, Fia?¡±


    This one¡­ cannot nod. Too much weight on a mere doll¡¯s neck.


    Fingers hook beneath this one¡¯s cheek. Another hand takes their doll by the shoulder in such a way that eases the burden this one is being subjected to.


    It is enough for this one to gasp in a mixture of horror, fear, and recognition of the hope in Mistress¡¯s eyes.


    This one speaks through pain and weakness. ¡°This one trusts you to the depths and back.¡±


    Mistress lets this one down gently before bracing enough to rise under the Castellan¡¯s projected contempt for all that is weak and frail.


    And they make it look so easy.


    ¡°Very well, mother. In the interest of today being a celebration of this alliance and my binding to admittedly very favorable partners, I¡¯m happy to play along. But if allowing me to stretch my wings is on the table, I¡¯d rather we depart on good terms.¡±


    ¡°How¡­ Amicable.¡±


    ¡°I have questions, of course.¡±


    ¡°First, a question of my own and one long overdue. When word of the victories you claim betwixt bloody fang and claw reach my court, what name shall I and the rest of Vylia know you as from this day forward?


    My mistress doesn¡¯t even hesitate.


    They speak in a voice that this one will only later realize is reflective of both siblings speaking in unison.


    ¡°Fell Wyrm Aelinore.¡±

 Chapter 36 – A Princess in Form, Dragon in Function

    Aelinore


    Out of everything we¡¯ve disagreed on since our mother appeared before us, that my component selves are in agreement about a new name comes as a welcome surprise.


    Maintaining enough composure and hatred to confront our own mother shouldn¡¯t be this difficult. And yet¡­ Maybe it is time we limit the damage.


    ¡°Snapdragon. If you can hear me, and still stand. Could you help Fia out of the room?¡±


    Before we hear a reply, the weight of pressure and pain that accompanies every confrontation with the Castellan¡­ Lifts like it was never there.


    Oh.


    So that¡¯s a thing the Castellan can always just turn off, but only now chosen to do.


    And here we rationalized away that we must have been born capable of withstanding how reality is always threatening to collapse around our mother. We¡¯re not sure whether to be furious or grateful.


    A running theme, that.


    Fia is able to struggle to her feet. She wears an expression as thankful as it is fearful as Snapdragon enters the room without a word to guide her by the arm until they are both out of the space.


    No sooner than they both finish departing, the weight of the Castellan¡¯s attention collapses upon us with a crushing intensity.


    How do we face our mother? The weight of her presence and attention alone is enough of a pressure to cause physical pain in all who have the misfortune of meeting her.


    For us it is a familiar pain. Our mother is not some faceless god thing who wishes to divide us into two.


    She created us.


    Protected us, even.


    It was she who carved out cavernous depths beneath her domain in which all her children would have a favorable hunting ground.


    For that if nothing else, we want to hate her.


    But when we isolated ourselves from the rest of our family, it was only by earning her favor that we were granted protection.


    She clothed us, fed us blood and food both, even going so far as to comfort each and every one of her spawn after their first kill.


    And then she sat by and watched most of us die. The explicit demand has always been to fight to justify our very existence. Beyond surviving the depths of childhood, she encouraged lethal infighting between even her oldest and most favored children. All for what?


    She rises from her throne. The realization that we have provoked something old and powerful is enough to set off well honed fight or flight instincts.


    The pace of our breaths and heartbeats intensifies, but we still our form as the weight of her attention finally gives way to words. ¡°You would give up your place as Fourteenth? As my child?¡±


    Try as we might, it is difficult to deny how important it has felt to us that the Castellan has until now spoken as if she is willing to accommodate us. We¡¯ll need to tread carefully despite leading with an immediate shake of the head.


    ¡°We did not shrug off another Goddess¡¯s advances to burn every bridge available to us.¡± Despite remaining firm in our stance, we are willing to concede on a singular point. We¡¯ll just have to frame it in the proper context. ¡°In time, we¡¯re fairly certain that my Seed Seers will come to see and accept the whole of what you have made us. Until then, you remain ever our mother in our eyes. As of now, only you are capable of understanding the depths of what and why we exist as we are. We wish only to avoid causing division amongst our siblings by standing apart.¡±


    That her expression does not at any point show maliciousness or offense is a good start. Seeing her instead sigh wistfully¡­ Leaves us uncertain.


    ¡°I had hoped that others would take after you, but I can see now that you ask now not as an aspiring conqueror.¡± Her scrutiny intensifies. ¡°Had Mel¡¯Viora not just finished singing your praises, I would have half a mind to strip you of all the gifts I have bestowed upon you.¡± And just like that, the intensity of her words and violent manifestation of her smothering presence begins to subside. ¡°Alas, to do so would rob you of the quality I most hold dear. A tender heart is most difficult to foster when the wider world would see us all dead for what we are, irregardless of what we have done.¡±


    We cross our arms over our chest in disbelief. ¡°A tender loving heart? After everything I¡¯ve been through, that is what you see in me?¡±


    ¡°Most harden their hearts long before leaving the depths of their proving and the dead of their brood behind. Not an hour free from the Depths and you¡¯ve fed upon one of the most important lessons I have to teach. Already you nurture your sister within you. That you would claim a name reflective of both of you joined as one tells me that you are already listening to the instincts of my gift. But most curiously, you spurn the rest of your siblings.¡± Her growing amusement is accompanied by frost beginning to settle in on the room around us. ¡°Very few of mine have willingly fed upon another of our kind. Fewer still cherish the experience.¡±


    Our hand clutches at our heart in something resembling a salute. ¡°We didn¡¯t ask for this.¡±


    ¡°Oh? I very vividly remember my Twelfth child recounting how Lenore asked you.¡±Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    What about the part where he cut me in half at the waist? Did he recount that too?


    We don¡¯t want to be having this conversation. Just above the cut of our dress, our clawed hand grazes at flesh. ¡°We ask for little more than we ever would as Fourteenth. Bar my siblings from harming me in mine. In a lasting capacity.¡± Shaking under the weight of our mother¡¯s attention, we settle for falling to one knee. ¡°Open up the seat of Fourteenth in your court to whomever is most deserving if you must. Just¡­ Free us of this wretched role and we will delight in being one of your monsters that the rest of the world fears.¡±


    We¡¯ve no allusions about that at least.


    The Castellan approaches.


    Just when I fear she is about to step out from the mirror, she comes to an abrupt halt.


    Were it not for constantly having to remind ourselves that a multiple day long carriage ride separates us, her proximity in the mirror would suggest she is within arm¡¯s reach.


    ¡°Of all things, you would appeal to a hope that I could accept anything less than your absolute loyalty?¡± My mother''s frost blue lips split her skull in amusement. "You''re suggesting there is a world where I accept anything less than a child of mine being willing to kill and replace me if needed!" Her cold eyes shrink into pointed pinpricks amidst widening black sclera. "Child of mine, I thought I abused such notions out of you. Why settle for anything less than what you yourself can guarantee?¡±


    We turn the question back upon her. ¡°Why arrange for us to be bound to a pair of Seers well equipped to show us understanding and love if not to arm us with better reasons to kill you and all the world? We ask you, dear mother, out of familial courtesy towards the only other family member we respect.¡±


    Some primal urge tugs at the back of our mind. This body¡¯s changes are continuing to take shape. We flex our jaw, feeling something break and reknit into place. The warning growl the follows is an expression of bestial pleasure. ¡°The way we see it, there are only guarantees available to us if we leave without a trace or as a friend. And if you or others can scry upon us with a mere thought, you must understand that you¡¯re limiting our options. Must you really demand we act in accordance to demanding senseless violence between us?¡±


    The Castellan inclines her head. For the first time in this conversation, she is leveraging her height to look down upon us. ¡°If the alternative is seeing another child of mine hollowed out and bent into a shape that appeals to the whims of this world¡¯s wretched gods? Yes.¡±


    No more kneeling. We rise, claws clenched and fangs bared in anger. ¡°Then you would do the work of those you despise for them!¡±


    She remains unmoved as her smile vanishes. ¡°You forget your place, child.¡±


    ¡°No!¡± We roar the word aloud with an intensity that causes our lungs to burn and the mirror to shake. ¡°If you would really prefer us capable of killing our own mother so that none could threaten us, you¡¯re no mother of ours!¡±


    We close the distance between us, intending to smash the mirror to pieces. ¡°And we had really hoped that some part of you cared.¡±


    She extends a hand of her own, quicker than words.


    Our hands meet.


    A bone deep chill lances up the length of our arm as her fingers lock around our clenched fist. We¡¯re left to shiver under her visible displeasure as the frigid reality that she can reach us begins to set in.


    ¡°Aelinore.¡± Her voice drinks in the sound of our name before taking on a rare motherly tone. ¡°I have lived long enough to regret everything I have ever done. Never have I been blind to the look in the eyes of those who hope that this time, in spite of all evidence to the contrary, something will finally turn out for the better. I saw it in the protector you claimed as your own and in the merchant who offered to spirit you away with haste. But never you. To see it now in you is¡­ A disappointment.¡±


    We feel¡­ Helpless.


    ¡°Why tell us all of this?¡±


    Her voice softens to match our own. ¡°Because I need you to do better with the circumstances afforded to me. Which will in turn fall upon you the moment you escape the reach of my domain and the protection it affords you.¡±


    Our reaction is as immediate as it is indignant. ¡°How are you supposed to know when any of your children have surpassed you if you yourself cannot hope that things can be better?¡± Our voice cracks under the weight of what must be said, leaving only Ayre¡¯s voice to push through. ¡°You¡¯ve not made any of us stronger. We are weaker for what you¡¯ve done to us. All of us! Even if we managed to eclipse you, our strength would be made frail by what your victory cost us.¡±


    ¡°You cannot tell me that prying the mantle of Divinity from the Goddess of Life itself has been for nothing.¡± Her grip tightens.  ¡°We are more than the monsters they see us as.¡±


    We shrug our shoulders, coming away with the distinct impression that we were just spoken over in favor of something we know very little about. ¡°Are we? We won¡¯t claim to know the bigger picture, but we were under the impression that those gifts of life just shifted the pain onto stones as alive and maligned as we are.¡±


    ¡°How would you¡­¡±


    We interrupt her, cutting to the point. ¡°Mom! You could have taught us! Better yet, you could admit you don¡¯t know and that you¡¯re just in as much pain as the rest of us.¡±


    ¡°And just trust that none in our number would not betray us? Sabotaging whatever end we hope to achieve?¡±


    ¡°Then we fail. Another regret on the pile.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve¡­¡± Her grip on our hand relaxes. ¡°Not seen the world beyond our borders. How it cracks and fractures.¡±


    We take a sharp breath as we avert our gaze. ¡°It¡¯s fractured here too. You¡¯ve just stopped caring to see the ones who fail.¡±


    Our mother, and she remains our mother in spite of her flaws, just¡­ Stops. Long moments pass in silence as she strangles any continuation of the argument between us. ¡°Okay.¡±


    We offer her a hopeful smile, still unsure if we¡¯re feeling up to meeting her gaze.. ¡°We don¡¯t want to hurt you. That goes the same for anyone you love. Depths, we know we shouldn¡¯t but we care about you too. If our time here has taught us anything, it is that someone has to accept us for all our faults.¡± At that, we lift our head to find our mother matching our smile.


    On her, it extends well beyond the limits of her flesh as we know it. We liken it to a manifestation of Astraea¡¯s goddess. ¡°I regret that I would hold quite the grudge if you found it within you to break Mel¡¯Viora.¡±


    ¡°Even if she deserves it?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Especially because she deserves it.¡± Her amusement returns. ¡°What is this? Does having my favor mean you think you can threaten those who are mine to shape?¡±


    We are briefly horrified by the laugh that erupts from our vile and wicked mother.


    But she lets my hand go. ¡°Very well. By the time your binding ceremony concludes, Fell Seer shall join your growing list of titles. Although I suspect the title will mean very little when none save Mel¡¯Viora shall remain alive to outrank you. She and I will come to an understanding.¡±


    Unsure how to respond to all of that, words just seem to fall from our lips. ¡°Are you giving us everything we want?¡±


    Our mother inclines her head, this time in a nod. ¡°For all intents and purposes, I do believe I have an alliance with Lunaria to maintain. And in the interest of maintaining it, none of Vylia are to harm you and yours. Now, if you¡¯ll excuse me. I must keep Mel¡¯Viora apprised of a change in plans.¡±


    With a snap of her fingers, our mother disappears.


    We¡¯re left with a ringing in our ears and faced with a reflection that reveals our jaw has expanded to accommodate the growth of larger and more teeth.


    That, and our Mother might have just revealed an intent to kill the vast majority of Lunaria¡¯s Seers. We¡¯re not sure whether we regret the part we played in influencing her decision.


    A Fell Wyrm in the image of our mother, indeed.

 Chapter 37 - More than a Doll, Less than a Blade

    Selescia


    They want better for Fia and I.


    To do that, I¡¯d probably have to put down my knives. Which shouldn¡¯t be as hard as I make it out to be.


    What is a blade to someone who can appear within any mirror and inflict frostbite with a touch?


    That last little reveal has the Seers leaping to their aid while the rest of us can do little more than address emotional concerns.


    I am no healer. Seer Cerya is quick to fuss over the details and describe stones that Snapdragon must fetch while Seer Theriya addresses the emotional wounds.


    ¡°I never got to warn you that scrying was a common method of communication or that you might wish to continue to embody whatever it is the Castellan or Grove Tender sees in you. But you handled that better than Astraea feared you might.¡± Theriya¡¯s words provoke a reaction in them. It is something she immediately softens with praise. ¡°I¡¯m proud of you, Aelinore. I am willing to embrace you, if you can stand being touched.¡±


    There is a long pause as Aelinore writhes and shivers before welcoming Theriya¡¯s embrace. ¡°Yeah. I think I¡¯m reaching the limit of what I can handle. All of this is too big and sudden for me to even begin to consider how to subvert or survive us going along with this.¡±


    Four hands cradle Aelinore at the head, neck, shoulder, and side. ¡°For now, we just need you to rest and recover. But first, there are things that can be done to prevent further scrying. We¡¯ll talk after, okay?¡±


    I watch.


    I listen.


    I apply pressure or a knife where it is needed.


    And I am¡­ Not needed.


    Not currently, and maybe not anytime soon.


    What good were any weapons raised by Ayre and Lenore against the Twelfth of the Castellan¡¯s ascended nobles? There has always been a lingering hope that there would be room for revenge and some closure leveled at the Twelve.


    But I have Lenore back in some form. Is that not enough?


    My Princess may not even be a princess anymore. Although I feel obligated to warn them that claiming to be a wyrm certainly puts their strained relationship with Lady Wyrmsbane into question. Mayhaps I can make that a priority?


    Still feels too¡­ servile.


    I have already been freed from the role assigned to me and the Castellan claims to be leaving the door wide open for our departure.


    In lieu of what is needed to maintain that nothing has changed, what is my purpose?


    Need to break out of this, what had been Theriya¡¯s words? Conditioning.


    Looking back through the lens of reinforcing behaviors and turning obligatory relationships into things of necessity turns my discomfort with being a doll into bitter cold ire.


    Aelinore is right. It is worth examining our relationships and rebuilding only what makes sense. Maybe my skills and experience can merely be applied to a purpose of my choosing. I will not waste this opportunity to change. Even if today is to be a day of Fia and I dressing up as if it were any other day at court.


    We are no longer the laced up objects intended to look pretty until the need for blood or a carefully trained purpose arises. We¡¯re a part of Aelinore¡¯s extended support network. Even if it no longer feels enough to serve in this capacity now that we are surrounded by well meaning allies and sources of more dramatic changes that suit Aelinore¡¯s constantly evolving tastes.


    Speaking of changes, it is good to see Aelinore so readily accept physical comforts. I had been a touch worried about them when I learned others were drawing them into sharing a bath.


    As Cerya walks Aelinore back into Theriya¡¯s comparatively warmer chambers to lay down, Theriya turns to the rest of us. ¡°There is a lot to do, and Aelinore is still very much in need of rest. For all intents and purposes, nothing has changed. The three of us are still expected to be little more than ceremonial trophies. All of you, finish preparing as if we¡¯ve overhead nothing.¡± She turns to Snapdragon the moment she arrives with an armful of stones. ¡°Can you give us some privacy?¡±


    A very pointed look passes between them.


    Snapdragon  ¡°Anything my Fell Wyrm and her Seers desire. Fia, Selescia, would you both be a dear and help me with something?¡±


    It is a surprise pleasure to be asked if we wish to help, even if the answer is the same. There is reassurance in knowing Aelinore will be taken care of while Fia and I explore our newfound agency.


    Upon both agreeing, we are quickly mustered toward the stairs where our purpose in all of this becomes clear.


    ¡°There is no telling how late the ceremony will run. Just in case, I would like to ensure every window is closed and secured so that no light is allowed through. This is how the latches operate. Come find me if any hinges respond with anything but ease, alright?¡± The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Of course.¡± Fia meekly exclaims.


    ¡°Sure.¡± I can go along with this. It will give me time to think.


    I make it a point to watch as Snapdragon moves from room to room as we work our way down the spire. She covers every mirror with secured lengths of fabric to fulfill much the same purpose.


    It is only when we are done that I think it worth asking her about them.


    ¡°Anti-scrying measures are typically a last resort. The Seers tend to prefer making themselves available. Better to give off the impression that we have nothing to hide.¡±


    I clear my throat. ¡°In that case, would it make sense to uncover the mirrors at least when we are done here?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a well reasoned conclusion.¡± Snapdragon confirms. ¡°More than I think is necessary, but I don¡¯t know the Vylian nobility all that well.¡±


    ¡°The Castellan scares us too.¡± I assure her.


    ¡°And the rest of her brood are miserable wretches.¡± Fia growls. ¡°The whole lot of them.¡±


    Not inaccurate, but if I could just clarify a bit¡­. ¡°We don¡¯t actually know Prince Threnodias or the upper ten all that well. The eldest tend to be away much of the time ruling their territories. Leaving the rest to scheme, compete, and learn.¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡± Snapdragon acknowledges my words, looking uncomfortable all of a sudden.


    My next question is a pointed one. ¡°How feasible is it that all the Seers are even going to be available to be killed during today¡¯s Binding Ceremony?¡±


    Snapdragon comes to a halt, her ears perking up as her frown only grows. ¡°Well, I can share with you what Cerya is attempting to convince Aelinore. It should be impossible to reach through a scrying surface of any kind in order to affect what is on the other side. How the Castellan explained things isn¡¯t inaccurate. She¡¯s just disregarded what is possible.¡±


    I note that she so readily embraces their new name. ¡°And yet we all saw Aelinore emerge with a frostbitten hand.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid only Cerya and Aelinore can elaborate on that. But back to the topic at hand. Most, if not all the Eldest Lunarian Seers should be in attendance in some capacity. Even if they¡¯re not expecting anyone to turn on them, the whole lot of them are powerful and wary sorts. Not to be challenged lightly.¡±


    Fia¡¯s pace slows, her voice growing disheartened. ¡°Today is going to be a bloodbath, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    Snapdragon doesn¡¯t miss even the subtlest of details, but her smile only widens. ¡°Let¡¯s get the two of you something to drink.¡±


    Fia is soon seated at the table while I offer to help. Only then do I press Snapdragon further. ¡°You still think it¡¯s possible.¡±


    ¡°I hear everything the three of them are piecing together up there.¡± Snapdragon closes her eyes and takes a deep breath before elaborating. ¡°Not only is it possible, but likely.¡±


    This isn¡¯t easy for her, I realize.


    ¡°The Seers are asking questions. Like why Aelinore seemed so certain they needed three whole doses of antivenom. What was it like to fight under a Full Moon¡¯s compulsion? And, most topically, there are careful requests that Aelinore be specific about how the Castellan seems to remind them of Astraea¡¯s Goddess.¡±


    ¡°Goddess?¡± I interrupt her.


    ¡°Yeah. She tried to spirit them away from us last night, if you can believe it.¡± She pinches the bridge of her nose. ¡°I almost regret making the Princess promise to come back to us alive.¡±


    That feels like it demands some amount of reassurance. ¡°That¡¯s a good thing though, right?¡±


    ¡±Sure. But I just assumed their mother was the same kind of cunt as Mel¡¯Viora. The Castellan¡­ Is something else entirely, it seems.¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°More than that, I think Aelinore really needed someone to tell them that their life has value. Someone not obligated to serve them, that is.¡±


    ¡°Give yourself at least a little credit.¡± Snapdragon says with a soft laugh. ¡°The Seers were not the first obligation in the Princess¡¯s life.¡±


    ¡°Oh I do.¡± And I take great pride in picking out the sweetest fruits for Fia to enjoy by way of apology for bending Snapdragon¡¯s ear in private. I have Theriya to thank for those insights, although I regret not getting the names of any of them.


    Seeing Fia¡¯s face light up upon tasting them is its own reward.


    ¡°Consider these sweet treats an apology from my Seers and your Princess.¡± Snapdragon offers us a sad smile. ¡°Or I guess it is Fell Dragon, now.¡±


    ¡°All these names and titles are getting exhausting to keep track of.¡± Fia pouts.


    ¡°If Snapdragon has settled on that one, I think we should join her in respecting what Aelinore chooses for themselves.¡± I say before sinking my teeth into the flesh of a succulent red fruit with a curiously skeletal spine running down the length of one side. ¡°Do you¡­ Know the name of this? I¡¯d like to request more of them.¡±


    Snapdragon eyes me with what I can only describe as her sad smile turns sheepish and her cheeks redden. ¡°You could say that I do.¡±


    Fia looks between the two of us, her eyes wide as if to say she knows this one. ¡°Snapdragon fruit is something of a favorite in this spire.¡±


    Making no attempts to hide her blush, Snapdragon passes out three freshly poured beverages. ¡°Vylians understand the concept of dead names, correct?¡±


    ¡°They do.¡± I confirm.


    ¡°Are either of you familiar with their origin?¡± Snapdragon almost looks hopeful.


    Both of us shake our heads.


    ¡°They¡¯re just names you¡¯re not supposed to say anymore.¡± Fia offers a usable explanation, if little else.


    ¡°I actually expect the conversation Aelinore just had with the Castellan will be enough to establish two more dead names for Vylians to adhere to.¡± I say, voicing my suspicions.


    ¡°Uproot it.¡± Snapdragon says under her breath. ¡°I was hoping you¡¯d know more. Theriya alluded to them being a kind of people or creed that I should consider seeking out, if I chose to flee Lunaria.¡±


    ¡°You were planning on running away?¡± I ask, almost instinctively searching the room for anyone that might have overheard that.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry.¡± Snapdragon assures me. ¡°I checked out the front to make sure no one was monitoring our spire. Just distant lights to show that guests are starting to arrive.¡±


    ¡°Are you¡­ Still planning to?¡± Fia asks.


    Snapdragon only looks up, a hopeful look on her face, before shaking her head. ¡°I might not have to.¡±


    Said with the same intonation that convinced me to press her earlier.


    I very carefully avoid meeting her eyes while trying not to look or feel guilty. I feel like I¡¯ve pushed her enough already.


    Snapdragon sighs before changing the topic, much to my relief. ¡°Dearest Fia and Selescia. Aelinore bids me to apologize on their behalf and thank you for trusting them. But your survival may depend on neither of you knowing what the Fell Wyrm and Seers intend.¡±


    ¡°Another reckless plan, I take it?¡± I say, not really intending to prod so much as acknowledge that this is far from unexpected.


    ¡°Please don¡¯t worry about this one.¡± Fia chides. ¡°Vylia demands only the most fitting and adaptable will survive.¡±


    ¡°All of us are in capable company.¡± I confirm. ¡°But if we are going against the Castellan¡¯s wishes, I would like to request that the Twelfth Prince not survive this whole affair.¡±


    Snapdragon¡¯s gaze falls to her drink. ¡°Right. You all are used to being surrounded by monsters. Sorry for treating you all so delicately.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s alright.¡± I assure her, before reaching underneath some lacing in my dress to hand Fia pair of knives and straps. ¡°The Castellan has the right of it. Why settle for anything less than ensuring our own desired ends?¡±


    Fia is all too giddy to once again be entrusted with a pair of my knives.


    Snapdragon concludes our quaint diversion on such ominous words imparted to them by Cerya, of all people. ¡°The Castellan might be the only one who is happy with the means and ends of what we intend. It is the kind of senseless violence that only Vylians thrive in.¡±


    ¡°Definitely a reckless plan then.¡± Fia says to me in agreement.

 Chapter 38 – Questioning One’s Place within Cycles of Violence

    Selescia


    As the first tokens exchanged between nations for this Binding Ceremony to arrive, Fia and I flanking Cerya in place of Aelinore draws looks of curiosity.


    Watchers clear paths for us, granting every onlooker a clear view as we descend beneath the grove through hollowed out root passages that deposit us into a chamber lined with mirrors.


    It takes a few moments to grasp just how much space is hollowed out beneath the grove. At the room¡¯s center, the trunk of another tree spire serves as a pillar supporting the space¡¯s existence.


    My attention lingers on what is depicted where the trunk splits off into roots that run throughout the chamber. Jagged ashen lines stretch along the bulk of the trunk, extending down into the roots.


    It isn¡¯t until I spot the symbol of Vylia that I realize I am looking at a map. A bird crushing a blade under claw very pointedly marks the spot where trunk gives way to massive roots. Orienting myself around this, I start to understand the lines as territories and other designs as seats of power.


    The territory most intricately detailed is off to the left of Vylia. West, if I remember my compass directions correctly. The lunar and tree symbolism doesn¡¯t leave a lot to the imagination. Upon further inspection, I realize that ten of the most pronounced Lunarian symbols identifying each grove has a corresponding mirror with the same design.


    Taking a step back to regard the map as a whole, I am struck by just how much Vylia and Lunaria cut deep into the heart of all their neighbors. Something uncomfortable settles into the pit of my stomach as I realize this alliance has very pointedly claimed stretches of territory that reach towards the heart of every other territory where the largest symbols denote what I now suspect to be seats of power.


    And then there is a root system beneath Vylia and Lunaria that depicts a number of southern nations each being torn apart.


    ¡°How accurate is that map?¡± I ask, noticing that many more Lunarians than just Cerya respond to my question with looks of interest..


    Cerya turns away from a Lunarian who has pressed several written messages into her hands. The moment she notices the object of my attention, her eyebrows form depictions of mountainous peaks that rival the map¡¯s own craft. ¡°Painstakingly accurate.¡±


    I almost fear asking for clarification. ¡°Even the roots?¡±


    ¡°Especially the roots.¡± Cerya confirms.


    It is at this point Fia chimes in. ¡°How can that be?¡±


    The pale violet skinned seer gestures to the tourmaline worked into the chamber flooring all throughout the root system and trunk. ¡°Mel¡¯Viora¡¯s Reach is an expression long honed into something intended to leave a mark. Our Grove Tender¡¯s work is intended only to bind the world into a new shape, but I wouldn¡¯t put it past her or most Elder Seers to push their spellcraft to the point of reshaping the world by force. But only they think it necessary, of course.¡± Her intonation at the end suggests a direct quote of some kind.


    I give the map one last look with that context in mind. ¡°Terrifying.¡±


    An unfamiliar voice from the nearest mirror answers me in a booming voice. ¡°Come now, Cerya. You can¡¯t give us all the credit!¡±


    Our attention is drawn to a mirror identified by a symbol depicting a waning moon crowning a gnarled and leafless tree. An old and wizened Lunarian lifts a silver chalice lined with pink gemstones in our direction. ¡°Such fertile seeds harvested by Vylia¡¯s Castellan are forces to be reckoned with in their own right.¡± A smile spreads across his lips as he eyes whatever is within his chalice with a look of measured anticipation. ¡°Given time to develop and ample resources that a proper patron would bring, your Fourteenth Prince could become a living weapon in and of themselves!¡±


    His words seem to have the desired effect on Fia, who has recounted to me in detail the timeline of Aelinore¡¯s changes since feeding upon a drake.


    Wasting no further time on the likes of us dolls, this Seer turns his curiously gemstone eyes on Cerya. ¡°Young Waning-Moon, it fills my heart with pride to see you developing an appreciation for this alliance¡¯s joined conquests enough to impress upon your lessers.¡±


    Nothing like being given attention for the purposes of self aggrandizement before immediately being referred to as someone else¡¯s lessers. Sprinkle in an assassination attempt, maybe a few duels to the death, and I¡¯d feel right at home as if this were the Castellan¡¯s own court.


    Keeping myself on task, I make a mental note that flattery and curiosity are likely viable avenues for engaging with at least one of the Elder Seers.


    Cerya bids the rest of us follow her in paying him our respects with a series of motions that took us very little practice to reproduce to Theriya¡¯s satisfaction. ¡°Primeval Seer Fel¡¯Daen, allow me to present my soon to be bound¡¯s most treasured blood dolls. Fia and Selescia. You stand now before the First of the Waning Moons. I and every Seer who take his name owe much to our patron Seer.¡±


    Fel¡¯Daen strokes a floor length braid of white hair with a hand cast in a similarly violet flesh tone in thought. It is hard not to see the resemblance, even if his eyes are gemstones for some reason. ¡°While others are impatient to gaze upon the main article, I find myself quite transfixed upon what I''ve heard about one of you leveraging a Lunarian bolt thrower in assistance of slaying a blighted drake.¡±


    Fia steps forward. ¡°Oh! I¡¯d never handled a crossbow before. Nevermind something heavier! But a few Watchers were kind enough to offer me very efficient and pointed advice on how to brace it. An evening¡¯s practice was more than enough to hit a big target!¡±If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    Something strikes me as off about Fel¡¯Daen¡¯s smile. Is it possible for such an expression to not meet artificial eyes? ¡°I¡¯m sure the Thorns were enthused to have a replacement eager to bolster their dwindling numbers.¡± It isn¡¯t until I hear a hint of derision in his words that I feel confident in my assessment.


    Cerya tenses. ¡°Did they not reclaim the Nineteenth Thorn?¡±


    The elder Seer merely shakes his head. ¡°Neither he, nor the Third Thorn reported for this afternoon¡¯s muster. I¡¯ve put out feelers, but yet to glean a full picture. Do keep me apprised, would you? Assisting your Prince in felling a drake makes them at least worth consideration for tomorrow¡¯s bargaining.¡±


    ¡°Of course, Primeval Seer Fel¡¯Daen.¡± Cerya and the rest of us are waved away in favor of Lunarians bringing Fel¡¯Daen written correspondence to read.


    Now that we are no longer the center of attention, I am afforded time to grapple with just how many people are in attendance. Nearly all the grove could likely fit down here.


    Most of them are Lunarians divided quite distinctly between those who are enjoying the function¡¯s wide assortment of food, an opportunity for currying favor with an elder Seer, and those who are carrying out tasks in service to the whole gathering.


    Flanking each mirror, Lunarians shuffle things into and out of view atop pedestals to ensure a variety of reading material is on hand for a scryer''s perusal. It is hard to not feel a pang of sympathy for how many Lunarian servants dart through the crowd to carry correspondence, block out time for meetings, and inform scryers of new arrivals.


    Nothing has changed. The three of us are still expected to be little more than ceremonial trophies.


    Theriya¡¯s words were later joined by final reassurances by a very weary Aelinore, fresh from a nap.


    Treat this as any other Vylian courtly function. Be on your guard, but remember that this ceremony is a celebration as far as we are concerned..


    But what of the Vylians who are supposed to be present?


    I don¡¯t see a single armored Executioner in the crowd. But that would be too obvious, wouldn¡¯t it?


    Instead I search for any signs of the Vylian standard. Or failing that, anyone dressed in crimson or black.


    A sharp eared Watcher is the first I spot. Dressed in a uniform that is curiously in Vylia¡¯s colors, they make their way to a crowd of five more in matching uniforms flanked by a sight that would make my skin crawl if I could afford to display such weakness.


    Two pale skinned figures dressed in lace lay on the ground beneath a pair of crossed legs in knee high leather boots. The Nineteenth Princess shows her fangs as she meets my gaze. Something glimmers in the shifting of her fingers that beckon the attention of one of the Watchers who appear to be waiting on her.


    I note that all of her Watchers seem on the younger end in years. Their uniforms depict a floral design I don¡¯t recognize. But it is hard not to pity them. The most prominent gossip at court regarding the Nineteenth Princess always amounted to the same end result. No doll entrusted to her care had a tendency to last longer than a ten moon or two.


    Having earned her attention, her Watchers work to part the crowd and earn her a better view of us. Only when their work is done do I realize someone has risen from her table to approach us.


    A pale skinned figure in black robes and cold blue lipstick nearly sends Fia into a panic. But this girl is too short, young, and lacks the crushing weight of presence that accompanies her gaze.


    I give Fia¡¯s hand a reassuring squeeze anyway. Nineteen¡¯s attention and reputation alone should afford us that much.


    It isn¡¯t until the robed girl speaks that her cadence marks her as someone far older than her body might suggest. ¡°Be at ease, striking Fia and oh so keen Selescia. I bring a mere invitation at the behest of another.¡±


    ¡°From the Nineteenth Princess?¡± Cerya asks, her expression becoming an emotionless mask.


    ¡°Negation, oh all seeing one. And no need to bow to me, oh venerated Seer. You have a celebration to enjoy! All I ask on behalf of two brides to the Ninth Prince is a moment of time from your exquisitely dressed dolls.¡±


    Sparing me a look, Cerya defers to me. ¡°If you do not mind, I think it best to defer to my Vylian advisors on this matter.¡±


    Unsure who this woman is, I risk pressing her for details. ¡°Did these brides of the Ninth Prince mention any particular purpose or request for us to accommodate in our meeting?¡±


    I find myself someone taken aback by how much delight this woman takes in my question. For all the attention her cackle draws, the words she rattles off leave me with very little to chew on. ¡°Dearie no! They wish only to better acquaint themselves with dolls they think of as peers!¡±


    It is only now that she has closed the distance between us that I catch the scent of her breath. Floral arrangements do little to stem the cloying chemicals or decay of a half-prepared corpse.


    Fia makes up for my hesitation by drawing her attention with a winning smile. ¡°This one would be delighted to make their acquaintance!¡±


    The wizened woman with a young face turns from Fia to me, clear interest in whatever I have to say.


    ¡°Lead the way.¡± I keep my words and tone clipped.


    ¡°Of course. Of course! It would be a great pleasure to guide the Fourteenth¡¯s favored on their way.¡± Pale and bony hands shoot out from her robe, gesturing for us to follow her off to the side. ¡°If you¡¯ll excuse us, Seed Seer of the Waning Moon. The Ninth and his brides have adjourned to an adjacent chamber to oversee matters of... Honor.¡±


    Cerya flinches.


    It takes her a moment to turn to us. ¡°Fia, Selescia, you need but request the assistance of any otherwise unoccupied Watcher if you need help finding my afterwards.¡±


    We both express our understanding before following the black robed women into the crowd.


    After a few moments, I chance another question. ¡°Might this doll have the pleasure of making your acquaintance?¡±


    Her cold blue lips part in faux shock. ¡°Why¡­ Has Astraea never mentioned her godmother in all this time? Ever since the Shattering, I have served Vylia¡¯s courts as the loathsome Lady of Rags. But you my dears, may address me as any Vylian academy student might. Headmistress Freide, at your service. If you have any questions about the anatomy of dollkind, feel free to bend my ear!¡±


    She ends her introduction with far too enticing a line of inquiry. I signal as such to Fia with a curtsy that draws the eye while making a gesture with my fingers.


    No one here wants to overhear details about the limitations or weakened anatomy of dolls.


    Instead I lean into the descriptor bestowed upon me as the observant one and ask a question that I hope will stroke the egos of anyone who overhears. ¡°We are as delighted to make your acquaintance as we are to take the Ninth Prince¡¯s brides up on their offer. In the meantime, what is this Shattering you mentioned? Does it have some relation to the map depicted on the trunk of the tree?¡±


    Looking just over Headmistress Friede¡¯s shoulders, two more Lunarians scrying through their mirrors adopt smug and amused expressions.


    I make an effort to reserve my smile for where it is appropriate in Friede¡¯s explanation.


    The moment of satisfaction where I can express that I am playing my part well never arrives.


    Headmistress Friede speaks with such pride that there is no mistaking her words as a second hand recounting. Fia and I are quickly led away from Cerya by someone who is all too delighted to recount personally recommending ten powerful mages that might be willing to assist the Castellan in bringing a world order of old to its knees.


    Ten mages.


    Ten mirrors.


    Ten Primeval Seers.


    We are treated not just to the story of a continent¡¯s shattering, but of Lunaria¡¯s founding and the death of two Goddesses. One of the Moon, and the other of Life itself.

 Chapter 39 - A Life None are Permitted to Take

    Astraea


    This evening is shaping up to be an intricate web of resolutions and binding fates to one another. And it¡¯s not just us, more than once I¡¯ve witnessed a group of Lunarians swear oaths.


    Six spacious underground chambers branch off from the central trunk of the tree spire. What feels like the entirety of Mel¡¯Viora¡¯s grove has somehow managed to fit down here with room for guests. All of them seem to be united in an intent to exchange gifts, favors, and to assess those who are soon to be bound to whatever purposes Lunaria demands.


    Amari has been a sight to behold, deftly working a number of different Lunarians from the various chambers into giving us enough information to grasp the intricacies of what is shaping up to indeed be a multiple day affair.


    For our purposes, my Princess and their Seers are to be bound on the first day. After getting what rest I could afford, Amari and Idra agreed that anything we wish to achieve is best to be done early before any particular Primeval Seer takes too keen an interest in any of us.


    Assuming all goes well, there is no reason why Amari cannot hold our own little ceremony in private in celebration. She wraps her around me beneath the table whenever she thinks she can get away with it.


    As far as I¡¯m concerned, it is well deserved.


    In the past few hours alone she has secured herself as the Princess¡¯s financial benefactor, proved to be an insightful conversationalist with Seer Eluned, and secured us a table from which to spy larger gifts like caged prisoners are most likely to be wheeled in - namely the naga the Watchers intended to capture.


    But in the off chance Ninth Prince Threnodias does not wish to allow his prizes far from his sight, this westernmost chamber is the only one large enough to support the cages he keeps Amari¡¯s sisters within.


    We spend this time entreating with Sapling Seer Eluned, learning the particulars by which Seers are judged. Despite having no interest in a future within Lunaria¡¯s borders, Amari and I make it an opportunity to bond over ways we each find and cultivate the value we see in others. If fulfilling my promise to Amari jeopardizes the position of the Seers, it would be nice to have more insights into what their life would have been like here in Lunaria.


    Truth be told, I¡¯ve always had more coin than I knew how to spend. Having Amari so willing to put my fortune to good use almost makes me nostalgic for the days when Sosima filled that same role aboard the Chimera¡¯s Mirage. It left me time to worry about what mattered.


    Who can I help? And how?


    The main priority is Amari¡¯s sisters, of which there are three.


    Idra has already made a nuisance of herself in our stead, purchasing rations for a supply run that can be put towards feeding them.


    It falls to me in freeing the sisters and telling them where to go. From there, Amari or Idra will be happy to handle things while I address any immediate consequences. Worst case scenario? I¡¯m to tell them to my Princess, whom they will know by the one who holds the charm that binds them all together as sisters.


    My Goddess has remained silent since our falling out. Without her, I might not be capable of miracles. But I suspect that my time in her service as her herald and as a feared pirate captain has earned me more experience than most. So long as I¡¯m mindful of my limits, I should have little to worry about.


    Convincing Threnodias into a duel or finding an opportunity to spring Amari¡¯s sisters without a Vylian noble present remain our best plans.


    All that stands between me and a joyful binding ceremony or two is a few more unpleasant dinner conversations followed by a daring rescue.


    Turning back into the first of many such detestable exchanges, I almost regard it as a shame that Eluned is quick to write off dead ends and constantly narrow her focus to those she deems more deserving.


    Thankfully it is not difficult to maintain my composure. I¡¯ve lived a life among pirate lords who could justify anything provided their might was beyond challenging. If I cared to, I could probably fit in like any other Vylian noble.


    Seer Eluned must take that as encouragement to test me. ¡°Take little Cerya for example. I¡¯ve been taking great care to rotate through having six entire plantings assigned to work alongside the Thorns at various tasks, with explicit instruction to improve upon anything Cerya teaches them.¡±


    ¡°I sense a lesson in there that she has yet to learn.¡± Amari says conversationally. ¡°Do these improvements tend to drown out whatever method Cerya is attempting to instill in them?¡±


    ¡°Quite right!¡± Eluned gets far too excited for my taste. ¡°She needs to learn that she is not going to get anywhere on her own. Besides, as a Seer, direct action is most unbecoming of what she could be capable of!¡±


    Amari tactfully chews over a choice morsel of fruit before committing to a response. ¡°It is not enough to know the craft and intricacies of any one stone, but how a system can be leveraged to overcome the worth of any singular investment. Am I right?¡±


    ¡°Your words suggest a very mercantile understanding, but yes!¡± Eluned sips from a steaming mug. ¡°Amari, it really has been a delight speaking with someone I don¡¯t have to explain everything to as if they sprouted yesterday.¡±


    My vulpine companion preens. ¡°It has been said that I¡¯ve something of a gift for predatory instincts. Speaking of which, I do believe I overheard that Astraea and her charge intend to resolve this issue with the Cinder Blights before this alliance¡¯s celebrations conclude. ¡± Amari turns to bat her eyelashes as she offers me an easier opportunity to contribute to the conversation. ¡°Were you not hoping to enlist the Thorned Watchers into serving as support for the kind of display of violence that might set unhealthy expectations for years to come?¡±


    I clear my throat. ¡°Not in so many words, but my understanding is that you keep a crew together if they work well already. I simply did not intend to bring up the topic until Ayre made an appearance.¡±


    Eluned waves off my admittedly paper thin concerns. ¡°I¡¯m quite sure any conflicting arrangements can be forestalled for a cause of elevated importance.¡±


    It is at that point I decide to make a show of noticing the Twelth Prince pacing at the far end of the dining hall. ¡°Isn¡¯t this the anniversary of some conquest of his against the Cinder Blights? Do you think there is a chance he would be interested in joining us?¡±


    That gets a devilish smile out of Eluned. ¡°Oh you can be sure the Twelfth Prince would need no persuasion to take part in hunting his favorite quarry. Besides, if I can dispense any lingering concerns, your Fourteenth has more than proved themselves a worthy match in the eyes of Mel¡¯Viora already.¡±This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    No sooner does talk turn to securing our plans for the Thorned Watchers, another batch of senior Watchers enter the room.


    I will myself to be unphased as they bring in the latest of many intended gifts to be presented and exchanged during this binding between Imperial powers - a trio of cages containing serpentine individuals.


    This is nothing new, I tell myself. Ayre will most assuredly extend to them their protection the moment any of these scalekin are gifted into their care. I don¡¯t have to stand by and accept that anyone here is a body being groomed for my godmother to extend her life with.


    At their head, a Watcher in a horned helm introduces herself to the Twelth Prince of Vylia as Iitharna. When she treats him like a child as she does so, I worry Eluned or I might have to intervene.


    But Iitharna is quick to pacify the Twelfth Prince with an ice white shard shaped like an oversized dagger. ¡°Peace, Twelfth Prince. Accept this as a gift from one hunter to another.¡±


    Twelve narrows his eyes, but accepts the gift. ¡°What interest should I have in a non magical rock?¡±


    Iitharna gestures to the three serpentine figures bound and contained within cages. ¡°A most curious contraband. You might know it as Vylian¡¯s bane.¡± This provokes a number of responses throughout the room. Amari, curiously enough, can¡¯t hide a touch of excitement.


    Iitharna continues. ¡°Weapons forged from iron ice are one of the few things known to pierce the flesh of an elder Vylian noble.¡±


    Twelve responds with a contemptuous glare at the bound serpents. ¡°Is this meant to be some veiled insult?¡±


    ¡°On the contrary, I had hoped you would help decide which of these serpents to offer the Fourteenth. You have looked so bored of late, Twelfth Prince.¡± Iiatharna¡¯s murmur gives way to a cruel grin. ¡°I merely thought you would be more interested in hunting prey who might stand a chance of wounding you.¡±


    ¡°Well, you¡¯re right about one thing.¡± Twelve crosses his arms. ¡°I tire of all these words and posturing.¡± He pauses to acknowledge the three new arrivals entering the side chamber, his gaze lingering on Fia and Selescia. ¡°It¡¯s not enough to hear your recounting of capturing these serpents. I¡¯d prefer to confirm for myself that they are capable of wielding the tools they craft. It is the least I can do to ensure my younger sibling does not take on the traits of an evolutionary dead end.¡±


    I¡¯m not going to get a better moment to intervene than that. My spaded tail reaches for Amari¡¯s beneath the table, we share a discreet embrace before I rise from where I have been seated.


    ¡°I won¡¯t let that happen.¡± Dressed in full Vylian ceremonial armor of black gemstone and crimson fabrics, I present myself as the Fourteenth¡¯s Sworn Blade. I do hope my Princess does not think it presumptuous. Twelve knows me to be their Sworn Blade. He is not someone we can afford revealing ourselves vulnerable to.


    Twelve turns on me, eyes narrowing as I pointedly do not specify which part of their words I took issue with. Their own attire mirrors mine in composition, if not material. A black coat and fuller red cape presents him as Vylian nobility without need or concern for even the illusion of armor. ¡°Ah, yes. You are that new Sworn Blade of my little sibling¡¯s.¡± His eyes wander down to the spaded tail I¡¯ve made a point to keep hidden until now. ¡°That¡¯s a succubus tail. Fancy yourself a patron of the flesh now, do you? And here I thought you convinced half the court that being known for slaying dragons was all the expertise you needed to offer.¡±


    A voice that has remained silent until now issues from a far table. Unlike Twelfth¡¯s harsh tones, the feminine voice of the Ninth Prince rings with notes of refinement to all who hear it. ¡°I can personally attest to what Lady Wyrmsbane is capable of.¡± Threnodias rises from his table, shedding a white padded coat to reveal a dress spun in red and gold ¨C cut to artfully expose his neckline, shoulders, and a singular toned leg at the thigh.


    He gives up his own seat, gesturing to it and the only other vacant chair for Fia and Selescia join his table filled with brides. Only when they are seated does he excuse himself to circle around the dining hall, favoring us with eyes and lips done up in crimson hues. Subtle flecks of gold glimmer at the edge of his face in the light.


    Twelve issues a warning growl as his gaze sweeps between the two of us, diminished only by the stark comparison of being a head and a half shorter than either of us. ¡°Respectfully, Ninth, you were afield when Lady Wyrmsbane bent the knee.¡±


    His older sibling¡¯s reply is thick with an airy contempt. ¡°Contrary to what dueling law would have you believe, there is more to taking one¡¯s measure than what the court itself can personally witness.¡± Threnodias regards me with a very pointed glare. ¡°The deeds of Lady Wyrmsbane are writ upon battlefields we have shared. I know not how you came to serve at the behest of one of our own, but I¡¯ll not suffer anyone here thinking you incapable of handling a blade.¡±


    Seeing my chance, I take it. ¡°There¡¯s no sense allowing any bad blood between us to linger. Care to give Lunaria a demonstration? Put me through my paces. We can make a duel of it, even.¡±


    The eyes of Threnodias slowly narrow into golden pin pricks amidst inky black sclera. ¡°I had hoped to settle my grievances with you in private, but I suppose today is all about showing the Primeval Seers what you and my little scaled sibling are capable of.¡±


    He¡¯s been kept apprised of Ayre¡¯s changes, I note. But my focus lingers on an apparent grudge that I can no doubt use to bait him into willingly betting something important. ¡°Shall we limit ourselves to first blood? Or do my accomplishments demand a pound of flesh?¡±


    The Ninth Prince holds his focused gaze in silence, allowing my bravado to seem quaint and distant before he deems my challenge worthy of a reply. ¡°I shall not draw my blade for anything less than what you have taken from me. The terms are a life for a life. First to yield. If you can commit to that, we can have ourselves a duel. Otherwise, go bother Twelve for a duel.¡±


    The room falls silent at that. A number of Watchers serving as messenger runners for the Primeval Seers abruptly leave the room.


    My gaze flicks to Amari, prompting a frown from Threnodias. ¡°I accept. But on one condition.¡±


    It won¡¯t matter, Threnodias¡¯s expression seems to say. ¡°Let''s hear it.¡±


    ¡°The life I took. Which Princess was it?¡±


    Threnodias snarls. ¡°Tenth. I was not at court in part to clean up the power vacuum left in the wake of her death. I can only surmise that you yet live because word did not reach court before you bent the knee.¡±


    I am very keenly aware of how the gaze of the rest of the room has turned immediately hostile.


    So I throw my head back and laugh. ¡°Is that all? I had hoped I had chanced upon the top five at least. Still, the life of an Elder Vylian has got to be worth more than a singular life.¡±


    ¡°Name your terms, Herald of Midnight!¡± His reply is a whip crack that signals this conversation is coming to an end.


    Gales.


    I might have just bitten off more than I can chew.


    ¡°I¡¯ve taken a shine to your Amari. My terms are a matched set of four.¡±


    ¡°Fine.¡± Threnodias inhales sharply before expressing a wicked grin. ¡°But before I get revenge for the sister you took from me, know that in exchange, I intend to claim the names of everyone you hold dear.¡±


    Amari is out of her seat and throwing herself between us before weapons can be fetched. ¡°I am not a trophy for either of you to wager!¡±


    Threnodias pries silk white gloves from his hands with airy contempt. ¡°Getting cold feet little schemer? Will you accept being my trophy to give away if I personally guarantee that Lady Wyrmsbane and you will be allowed to leave this grove alive? Provided of course that she wins.¡±


    Before Amari or I can come up with a response, a pale skinned woman in a black robe and cold blue lips interjects. ¡°As the Lady of Rags of the Vylian court, I Headmistress Freide and personal advisor to the once Queen Hypatia, would be happy to guarantee this duel¡¯s results are respected. Regardless of whether the Ninth Prince of my godchild claim victory.¡±


    My blood runs cold at the mention of my mother¡¯s name.


    Seer Eluned chortles. ¡°There you have it, Amari. You¡¯ll get no guarantee as likely to last than one offered by an undying Lich.¡±


    Freide and I hold each other¡¯s gaze.


    Rags? Godmother, is that really you?


    I am left to grapple with the experience of finding a familiar expression of unshakable confidence coming from an unfamiliar face.


    Knowing that it is a confidence in me does little to distract from the deepening pit in my stomach that forms over knowing my godmother has taken the body of another young woman.


    Lady Midnight, if you¡¯re listening, I could really use your help. Grant me the strength to put this mess we¡¯ve made to rights.


    With my silent prayer comes a deep and solemn breath. When I exhale, it is with the breath of another. Granted an unexpected blessing, a howling gale begins to manifest in the facsimile of a glaive.


    I grip it tight, hoping against hope that my Lady Midnight¡¯s weapon remains an expression of faith strong enough to pierce the flesh of an elder Vylian noble.

 Chapter 40 – A Life One cannot Afford to Spare

    Astraea


    Threnodias beckons.


    Of his six present, he gestures to the only one with visible graying hairs. A black shadow of a dress dances across the hall, golden stars trailing in the wake stirred by proximity to my divine manifestation of winds.


    My grip tightens as I redirect the weapon away from the two of them, cracking stone foundation beneath me as I do so.


    Showing no concern for the rest of the room, she tugs her prince into a kiss before prying wordless reassurances from Threnodias.


    Scooping an arm around him, she dips her prince backwards whilst positioning her head above his. Their eyes lock as she dig nails into the Ninth Prince¡¯s neckline. Blood spirals up her fingers, hardens into a crystalline construct, and is firmly grasped as something begins to take shape. With a hitched breath from Threnodias, his bride extracts enough blood to forge a blade.


    A sharp flick of her wrist spatters any excess upon the ground before she seals the wound with another kiss. The two linger in each other¡¯s embrace for far longer than necessary for the bloodforged blade to change hands. Before they part, Threnodias thumbs away blood from his bride¡¯s lips.


    Once his bride is safely away, Threnodias turns to level a very solid bloodforged blade at my heart.


    Taking it as an invitation, I strike with the kind of force an accomplished evoker could cause with a conjured bolt of lightning or ball of flames. Only with the wind at my back and in my hands, there is time enough to strike Threnodias three times within the same time frame an incantation would demand.


    To his credit, he makes no attempt at blocking the full force of my assault. He relies instead on redirection and mitigation, quickly coming to the conclusion that he should give ground freely and often.


    I am a whirlwind of strikes conjuring up a thunderous storm of impacts that would break a lesser weapon.


    Three tables full of Lunariang guests behind Threnodias evacuate moments before he levels the nearest one to throw with his off hand.


    I throw caution to the wind, relaxing my grip on the gales to send him and all three tables flying into the back wall.


    Mirrors flicker as they are lit up with the presence of a newfound audience.


    Lunaria¡¯s Moon murdering Seers are just in time to watch as Threnodias emerges from a pile of tablecloths with a delighted laugh. ¡°And here I thought my sister died to treachery! Tell me, Lady Wyrmsbane, did she die honorably at the end of your glaive?¡±


    I jab my weapon into the ground, giving everyone around us time to gain more distance now that it is clear our engagement will be a destructive one. Only once everyone is safely clear do I give an answer. ¡°I may have blocked her column¡¯s escape, but she was willing to purchase the lives of her Lunarians with her own. None of your kind die cleanly, however. The moment I had the best of her, I made sure nothing was left of her to recover.¡±


    Threnodias nods. ¡°And what of her dolls? She brought all five of hers, as is customary for any long term engagement.¡±


    I raise an eyebrow. ¡°Entrusted to the safekeeping of someone who could afford to grant them any life or body they desire.¡±


    That gets a snarl out of him. ¡°I don¡¯t believe you. What reason would you have to go that far for strangers?¡±


    With a shrug of my shoulders, I step forward and brace myself to resume our duel. ¡°Make me yield and I¡¯ve already agreed that you can pry her name from my lips.¡±


    The Ninth Prince is not afforded time to think on that. My glaive explodes a section of the floor, propelling me into the air above Threnodias. He himself kicks off the wall to evade me reducing everything around his immediate vicinity to debris.


    Taking advantage of his own body¡¯s regenerative capacity, he is happy to eat the full weight of an instant reversal of momentum wreaking havoc on his body¡¯s joints. But that kind of abuse affords him an opportunity to at last go on the offensive.


    His blade carves through the stone wall as if it were air, demanding I drop low and leverage my glaive to create some distance between us.


    That didn¡¯t slow him down for a moment, did it?


    I growl as I intercept his next two swings, feeling the impact in my shoulders and wrists even though my glaive has no singular haft that should concentrate the weight of his attacks.


    Instead of the force of his swings being defused against the rending vortex of wind, his blade cracks against my guard.


    Sensing an opportunity, I dance with the wind into and out of his range in an attempt to bring our fight to a swift end. Only two strikes later and I can find no trace of the crack I heard.


    Nothing about this is adding up.


    His sister fought with a small armory of weapons that she would happy to break or discard at a moment¡¯s notice.


    This fight is going nothing like my last confrontation with one of the Castellan¡¯s brood.


    Whatever he and is, he is interacting with divine magic as if¡­


    In a moment of doubt, my divine glaive snaps in half.


    Threnodias smirks.


    ¡°Yield.¡± His voice is calm, delicate even.


    But command falls on deaf ears.


    I advance before my weapon can dissipate.


    And I take a blade through my side for the rouble.


    I dig one claw into his shoulder before meeting his gaze.


    ¡°You first.¡±


    It is enough to steady my aim enough to jab the tip of a dying hurricane into his chest.


    Everyone dies poorly.


    He¡¯s not special.


    Not in this or any other regard.


    Threnodias¡­ Comes unspun.


    His dress is the first to be torn away, revealing a body covered in golden scales not unlike Ayre¡¯s.


    The cries that erupt from his lungs would be beautiful if I did not suspect them to belong to everyone he has ever fed upon.


    It is a sudden eruption of fire from his lungs that saves him.


    The moment what remains of hurricane glaive parts from my grip, I allow it to sweep me off my feet in hopes of clearing the sudden blaze.


    But the damage is done, leaving me struggling to rise to my feet.


    Pushing through blinding pain, my hands find a discarded blade forged from blood.


    I stumble towards the source of the now spreading inferno, all thoughts of treating this like a duel forgotten.


    I have an opportunity to achieve far more than just freeing Amari¡¯s sisters. I can put an end to one of the Castellan¡¯s eldest. The ones who actually rule over Vylia and oppress its neighbors with their largely unchecked conquests.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    The blaze roars with an intensity I only expect from the most venerable wyrms.


    Can¡¯t let Ayre see this.


    Can¡¯t let Ayre become this.


    Can¡¯t¡­ conjure up anymore divine breath to ward off the worst of it.


    I¡­ I can¡¯t let myself die here.


    ¡°I YIELD!¡±


    My lungs give out as the source of the flames begins to subside.


    But the pain of what I have already pushed through¡­


    It envelops me completely.


    And I succumb to it.


    ***


    Selescia


    Fia has been twisting my hand under the table since the moment Amari went rigid.


    The white furred fox just stands there, her hands fretting at the fabric of her red dress. They have since the moment Astraea conjured a weapon made entirely out of a length of what looks like an intense current of wind.


    I don¡¯t have time to questions intricacies of the sudden hostility growing in the audience. Not when Amari¡¯s signs of distress began far earlier than anyone else¡¯s.


    Fia can¡¯t tear her gaze from Amari, mouthing words without volume.


    She¡¯s hurting. I see it now. I made Aelinore look like that.


    The duel escalates.


    I squeeze Fia¡¯s hand reassuringly.


    Amari doesn¡¯t stay.


    Not til the end.


    Her departure does not go unnoticed.


    Vallishandra, first of Threnodias¡¯s dolls turned brides, meets my gaze with an artfully quirked eyebrow. She¡¯s curious, I realize, openly questioning whether I intend to follow after her.


    ¡°Yield.¡±


    ¡°You first.¡±


    Vallishandra holds my stare, seemingly unconcerned with the fate of her Prince. The rest of Threnodias¡¯s brides look poised to leap from the table the moment it is appropriate to do so.


    Fia¡¯s grip tightens as a sudden introduction of heat and flame alights part of the chamber.


    Most back away. And I can hardly blame them. Smoke is a nasty threat within an enclosed space.


    ¡°Go to her.¡± I whisper, my lips pressed to Fia¡¯s ear.


    She nods, rising with the rest of the brides.


    Vallishandra matches pace with me, adopting an appropriately concerned expression for a number of tables and carpets catching fire.


    But she doesn¡¯t seem all that concerned.


    Even as the voice of Threnodias cuts through the cacophony to cry out in agony. ¡°I YIELD!¡±


    Reaching the chamber¡¯s western exit tunnel, I risk a whisper. ¡°Must you follow me?¡±


    ¡°The rest can tend to our injured wife.¡± Vallishandra supplies, forcing a smile approximating friendly. ¡°I merely thought to offer myself up as an escort.¡±


    I almost buy it. But then I remember that her experience at courtly functions far outweighs my own. It is hard not to be a little intimidated by the much older doll dressed in black and gold. ¡°Is that wise?¡±


    She pretends to give it a moment¡¯s thought, not even slowing her pace. ¡°Threnodias would insist. Besides, it would not do to allow you to wander unfamiliar streets alone.¡±


    I do not miss the subtext that she is volunteering to protect me. Why does it not surprise me that there are likely Lunarians just as likely to harm me as the Twelfth or Nineteenth siblings?


    But then again she did just pull a blood sword out of Threnodias¡¯s throat. I could probably do with far worse protection than someone who is capable of that.


    I elect to be thankful. ¡°I appreciate you sacrifice, Madam Vallishandra. This is hardly an easy time to be apart from your Prince.¡±


    ¡°He really is mine.¡± She says wistfully now that we¡¯re both above ground. ¡°It is very rare to find one of the Castellan¡¯s brood who truly cares for those who are intended to be stilted things. If your Aelionre is anything like you claim, I suggest you hold them close.¡±


    I blink at that. ¡°If Threnodias doesn¡¯t survive¡­¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s been feeding us. Not the other way around.¡±


    I¡­ Don¡¯t know what to say to that.


    She seems to take satisfaction in that. ¡°I¡¯m the reason we¡¯re here. We¡¯d heard that the new Fourteenth had a particularly sudden and violent ascension in the ranks.¡±


    I do bristle that that, prompting an amused smile.


    ¡°But we were all quite relieved to hear that they killed the previous Fourteenth for harassing you and Fia. Really darling, half of my wives came here to spirit you away from an abusive Prince. To put revenge in your hands, if desired.¡±


    At that I come to a stop. Her friendliness starts to take on a twisted kind of sense. Is this what the older siblings and their dolls can get away with once they start ruling territories?


    Both of us can hear the rattling of chains and whispered voices around the corner of the next building.


    But I have something to say first. ¡°Do you mean that?¡±


    Her expression turns dangerous. ¡°Is Aelinore hurting you? In private?¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°No. My grievance is with twelve, Madame Vallishandra. Aelinore, I mean, at the time it was Ayre and Lenore. They both¡­ Rose from the depths at the same time. Twelve demanded one kill the other and¡­¡±


    ¡°Say no more, Selescia. I understand. Your wishes will be made known, but first, allow me to assist you with the matter at hand.¡± She gestures to the corner, prompting me to be the first to make my presence known.


    The sound of sobbing and hushed reassurances follow a sharp rattle of chains.


    Turning the corner, I find expanding pools of blood spreading from the corpses of four Lunarians. Watcher uniforms adorn all of them. Torn throats and broken limbs are the most evident wounds.


    At the center of the slaughter, Amari sits, trying key after key with shaking hands as blood drips from her maw. She mutters under her breath, the next line from what I judge to be a long and panicked refrain from someone unused to violence. ¡°I just wanted them to stop!¡±


    ¡°We know sis. You¡¯re doing fine.¡±


    Amari shakes her head. ¡°You don¡¯t understand. I heard everything! Even as I tried to run.¡±


    One of the vulpine sisters in cages look up at us.


    When neither Vallishandra or I seem to mean any harm or show intent to shout for help, she turns her attention back on Amari who has continued to fumble uselessly with the keys.


    ¡°Told myself I could make it stop if I just¡­ Set you all free! Then they¡­ Neither of them would have to fight!¡± Amari is inconsolable, even as the fourth key fails to open the lock. ¡°So I ran. Useless. Cowardly prey behavior.¡± She stops trying the keys, her sisters attempt to still her shaking hands.


    ¡°When she needed me most, I couldn¡¯t face her. Not after she invoked the help of her abusive goddess!¡±


    ¡°Hey. Amari. Listen. Shhhh shh shh. None of us for a moment believed you would give up on us.¡±


    ¡°You should make sure your friend is alright.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll figure something else out, alright?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll keep trying the keys from here.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right. I should have stayed. Should go back, I mean.¡± Amari slowly turns to looks up at us, both rings of what must be twenty keys each fall from her grasp.


    Behind her, something like fourteen cages remain set along the side of the street. The rest long since relocated after being unloaded from some nearby carts.


    Amari hesitates meeting Vallishandra¡¯s gaze. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    The aging doll strides towards Amari, causing her to flinch away in fear.


    Vallishandra produces a key. ¡°I do believe that my most stubborn wife of a prince has guaranteed the lives and freedoms of you, your sisters, and Lady Wyrmsbane.¡±


    Amari chokes on her reply, wide eyed and fearful of this woman who¡­ introduced herself to me as having once been a doll.


    An object.


    A resource.


    But she isn¡¯t anymore, is she?


    A doll is nothing like the woman of poise and confidence that I see before me now.


    Never mind the changes I cannot see.


    Amari takes the key.


    With a click, the lock opens on the first try.


    Her sisters bury her in a tearful reunion that quickly turns into physically overpowering their big sister.


    Not wanting to interrupt, I find myself crouching beside one of the Watcher corpses.


    No.


    Not quite corpse.


    This Watcher is also on the young side, wearing a red and black uniform. Bloodied claw wounds seem to have torn through the design I expect to be floral in nature. Instead I swear I can make out some manner of furred animal with an open mouth towards the sky.


    ¡°Lady Watcher, are you alright?¡± I ask, my voice a gentle whisper.


    She spits blood, grimacing not in pain, but anger. ¡°Nine¡­ Was right. You¡¯re all¡­ Monsters.¡±


    I back away as she tightens her grip around a spear.


    But it is the last thing she does before slowly expiring, anything else she might have to say becoming incoherent.


    ¡°Wretched Howlers.¡± Amari growls, having extricated herself from her sisters.


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    Something in my recognition prompts Vallishandra to raise an inquisitive eyebrow.


    ¡°One of them tried to kill Aelinore.¡± I explain. ¡°I wasn¡¯t there, but allegedly my Princess spared them. Claimed that none of them deserved to die over it.¡±


    Amari growls again. ¡°When I arrived, they were abusing the prisoners.¡±


    One of her sisters tries in vain to wipe the blood from her fur. ¡°We¡¯re okay. Threnodias was clear that we were not to be touched.¡±


    ¡°That still doesn¡¯t give them a right to demean and hurt everyone else here!¡± Amari snaps back. ¡°I¡¯m sick of this! I want to help the people here. I really do! But sometimes it feels like the only ones here with a functional moral compass are me and Astraea.¡± She blinks hard after the mention of Astraea¡¯s name, her tail going rigid again.


    Vallishandra turns her upturned brow at Amari this time. A moment later, an undignified kick deposits one of the discarded keyrings at Amari¡¯s feet. She winks before turning away. ¡°Come along, Selescia. Amari needs time to clean up before the Binding Ceremony resumes. I¡¯m sure they¡¯ve put out the fire by now, don¡¯t you?¡±


    In spite of myself, I laugh.


    Today has been horrid.


    I don¡¯t even know if Astraea is still alive.


    But nor does Vallishandra for Threnodias.


    If I compare this to when it was just Aelionre, Fia, and I against what felt like the entire Vylian court? None of this seems all that hard to bear. I even have Lenore back in some fashion.


    ¡°Yeah. You¡¯re probably right.¡± I say, choosing to hope that everything will work out somehow.


    ¡°Not a single functioning moral compass between the two of us.¡± Vallishandra announces with a smile.


    Yet here Vallishandra and I are, sharing a terrible joke.


    If by some cruel twist of circumstance things with Amari and Astraea don¡¯t work out, then I¡¯ll just have to pin my hopes on the next plan. And then the one after that. Over and over again until we¡¯re somewhere resembling free.


    Without another word, the two of us leave Amari behind to descend once more into the depths of a tunnel network beneath Mel¡¯Viora¡¯s grove.

 Chapter 41 - Love as a Violent Act

    Aelinore


    ¡°We shouldn¡¯t have to worry.¡± Snapdragon whispers, not to hide what she is saying so much as comfort. ¡°Everyone has their parts to play.¡±


    ¡°And I have the heaviest.¡± Theriya says with a sigh.


    ¡°You said it yourself.¡± Snapdragon chides. ¡°It¡¯s not about us. It never could be. But there¡¯s room to do right by those who do not factor into the ends and means, to distract from more than who they hope to kill. You will play your part, being beautiful decorations to serve as a distraction while the rest of us save who we can.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re too... Optimistic.¡± Theriya says that, but even I can tell she¡¯s hanging on Snapdragon¡¯s every word.


    ¡°I¡¯m hopeful, but not unwilling to cut our losses. We¡¯re in agreement about that much.¡± Snapdragon draws Theriya into a hug from behind as I make this moment my opportunity to enter. ¡°You¡¯ve convinced us to share this burden. And I know you¡¯ve taken it upon yourself to be present for the riskiest parts.¡±


    ¡°If it¡¯s any consolation, I think it is a good plan.¡± I announce myself with praise. ¡°One I am only now coming to appreciate has Amari¡¯s perceptions and insights taken into account.¡± My advisor has given Theriya a good accounting of what we¡¯re all capable of. Almost alarmingly so. But then again, she has been serving Vylia¡¯s court for far longer than Astraea has been in my service.


    Theriya looks up at me from behind two piles of books arranged among a familiar arrangement of tokens. ¡°My mother sourced me some options on if Lady Midnight intervenes. But everything else is so very neatly accounted for by that fox of ours. If I didn¡¯t know any better, I would think she¡¯s been wanting to hurt both our families for a very long time.¡± In spite of everything, the smile she gives me is a relaxed one.


    Although that might be Snapdragon¡¯s handiwork.


    ¡°While I wouldn¡¯t put it past her, I think Amari is right in making it her priority to warn us of the most dangerous threats. We share this awful notion that prioritizing the care of others should take precedent.¡± I think back to the moment she thought Astraea would kill her for her betrayal. Amari spent that time passing me a note that I¡¯ve left Theriya to puzzle over. Only for me to now recognize a second one sits alongside it atop Theriya¡¯s desk. I really hope Amari¡¯s sisters make it out, if they aren¡¯t free already. ¡°Especially if we alone are capable of easing the burdens of many.¡±


    I certainly hope her gift to Theriya is more than mere cryptic advice.


    The time I¡¯ve spent resting has been time Theriya has spent preparing. My filled gemstones, Amari¡¯s bone tooth charm, and the pouch of blighted stones all await Theriya rendering an assessment on how best they can be used in the evening to come.


    ¡°Don¡¯t remind me.¡± Theriya¡¯s smile fades. ¡°We¡¯re stretching ourselves thin, here.¡±


    Snapdragon seats herself atop the desk to add her own reassurances. ¡°Only because Aelinore has gotten their mother to admit that they are going to be doing the heavy lifting. All that¡¯s left for us to do is decide what is worth changing, and who we¡¯ll attempt to rescue from the chaos when all this comes crashing down around us.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s refreshing to know that the hard part is already behind me.¡± I admit. ¡°All I¡¯ve got to do is make myself presentable and draw the attention to these Primeval Seers while the rest of you skulk about in the grove¡¯s depths.¡±


    Theriya looks down at the book I left in her care, my black leather journal. Her expression finally finishes resolving into a frown. ¡°Depths, Aelinore. You say that like you haven¡¯t already endured enough.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s all behind me.¡± I assure her. ¡°But know that I¡¯m ready and willing to step up where I¡¯m needed. All of me is.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± My Seer says blankly.


    The two of us hold each other¡¯s gaze as I close the distance enough to seat myself across from her.


    The both of us are dressed now for our binding ceremony. Her in rich voluminous black layers of sheer robes overlaid atop a full skirt adorned with celestial patterns and I in an amended red dress.


    I reach out to gently cup her free hands in my own. ¡°It¡¯s going to be okay. Whatever you¡¯re about to subject me to, it will be in pursuit of something I crave.¡±


    ¡°You two are adorable.¡± Snapdragon announces dreamily, before launching into a prepared salvo of affection. ¡°A passing skim through your journal has her also referring to your depths as a curse. I may not be the most reliable judge of Theriya¡¯s character, but even I think she is starting to grow protective over you.¡±


    Theriya gives Snapdragon a dark look.


    Snapdragon¡¯s words become a chastisement. ¡°Don¡¯t give me that. It¡¯s good to see you caring about someone new again. Amari too.¡± She turns to me with a curious look. ¡°And you. Aelinore, can¡¯t possibly understand what it means to Theriya to trust shaping your body to someone who has come to loathe how efficient hers is at bringing her nothing but misery. It will be good to see her indulging in a craft that helps far more than it hurts.¡±


    Theriya and I begin to adjust ourselves in our seats at the same time, stealing simultaneous glances at each other before deciding to look at literally anything else.


    Snapdragon presses her hand down atop a joined pair between the two of us. ¡°I¡¯d call the both of you walking disasters if I didn¡¯t think you weren¡¯t both well on track to securing a lasting calm in each other.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you think you¡¯re laying it on a bit thick?¡± Theriya¡¯s own response is endearingly measured.


    Snapdragon shakes her head. ¡°Drink this moment in. You two have been through so much to get here. It¡¯s worth just enjoying these moments together. If it gets messy, celebrate the mess.¡±


    I feel like I should say something.


    But what can I say in the face of us all trying to make the most of one family attempting to slaughter the other? There¡¯s no way this doesn¡¯t turn out to be its own kind of mess.


    I find myself squeezing her hands.


    ¡°Theriya, I know this has all been so sudden. And despite your initial impulse to protect yourself and your sister, Cerya has grown attached to me.¡±


    She meets my gaze, holding it this time as her frown fades. ¡°For what it is worth, I do regret that.¡±


    ¡°I know. And I don¡¯t hold it against you. There is no length that my component selves would not go to protect the ever dwindling number of siblings who hatched alongside us.¡±


    She squeezes back.


    I clear my throat, trying to find strength to say the words aloud. ¡°The stones you crafted for me to wield resonate with my losses and scars all too well. It feels like the least I could do to wield them only when I thought Snapdragon or Cerya in danger.¡±


    Theriya¡¯s threadbare smile matches my own as she shakes her head. ¡°As much as I appreciate what you¡¯re trying to say, please do not expend yourself on our behalf. If things get desperate, I have wicked things carved in my darkest of moods that I can wield.¡± She gives Snapdragon a very pointed look. ¡°I¡¯d rather we trade any and every emotion available to us than risk losing anyone we hold dear. Understood?¡±This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Snapdragon holds up her hands in surrender. ¡°Oh good. You just saved me the second half of my speech. If Cerya asks, please convince her that I was never worried. Just tell her I thought the two of you looked stunning.¡±


    The two of us turn to admire Snapdragon in what I would describe as a two toned Vylian duelist¡¯s garb. A tailed coat, double belts, and an onyx gripped rapier support a ruby red blade. The only Lunarian touch is found in crescent moon shaped pins and buttons. It is a shape I can¡¯t help but note features prominently in Cerya¡¯s own dress.


    ¡°You¡¯re uh, looking quite star struck yourself. Shouldn¡¯t be hard to sell.¡± My reply is nowhere near smooth as I imagined it in my head.


    Snapdragon¡¯s laugh is a balm to my nervous heart. ¡°We¡¯re all missing just one last touch.¡± She produces a small box that fits in the palm of her hand, opening it up to reveal eight of my more painfully shed scales ¨C freshly cleaned of blood.


    A closer examination reveals that they are rather hastily bound to a bunch of pins intended to serve as gemstone implements worked into clothing.


    Theriya offers an explanation. ¡°The gems would be too small to be of any use against Primeval Seers or Vylian Royalty. My sister dearest thought it best we repurpose them as token reminders of who we¡¯re fighting for.¡±


    Snapdragon leans forward. ¡°Since you¡¯re supposed to be acting only in an official capacity, we thought you could do the honors throughout the afternoon.¡±


    ¡°The history exchanging jewlery with your loved ones really is quite romantic.¡± Theriya supplies.


    Snapdragon¡¯s eyebrow twitches. ¡°Not if we burn that history.¡±


    ¡°Hey.¡± I interrupt, claiming the box of scaled pins. ¡°If Cerya were here, she¡¯d say that stops here.¡± I fetch out a pair of them, reaching out to the breast of Snapdragon¡¯s coat first. ¡°These wretched roles picked for us?¡± I pin the next scale to where Theriya¡¯s robe terminates at the neckline. ¡°The expectations that we embody anything other than what we ourselves want to be? I mean it. Here and now, we start building something better.¡± Our circumstances demand a little more than my words.


    Snapdragon chooses that time to rise and fetch some tools while Theriya prepares herself for the first step in her plan.


    I trust her, no matter what she warns me to expect in controlling my body''s changes.


    It is why I entrusted her with my journal. And with it, the depths of my despair.


    Theriya circles around the topic at hand. ¡°I know I offered you this. But now that we both know how much it might hurt you, can I be sure that you¡¯re still willing to go through with it?¡±


    She means now, instead of waiting until those of us who survive are free from this place. And in doing so has correctly deduced that we are the two most likely to survive any faults in her plan.


    ¡°No. You don¡¯t get to question this.¡± I say simply. ¡°That journal contains the words of a dead prince. It doesn¡¯t capture half of what I am now." Whether I¡¯m ready or not is irrelevant. "All that matters is that you have offered and I would very much like to take this as far as we can.¡±


    If I must present myself as a prized specimen with an immense capacity for violence, it need not be as anything recognizable that our countries delight in shaping at a whim.


    Better a scaled beast that than be recognized as just another wretched Vylian Prince.


    Or even a Princess, really.


    If I''m to forever be a monster in the eyes of the rest of the world, I would much prefer to be one shaped by the hands of a lover.


    Or two or three.


    Forget the change brought about by tools or stones.


    It is the love, support, and acceptance I have been offered that now guides my steps.


    ***


    Theriya makes it all the way to the hilt before I feel myself become we.


    Pain spirals throughout our being as we confront the pain that accompanies inhabiting the same body.


    Our blood spirals out from our chest to embrace the garnet implement last used to put a kindred drake out of its misery.


    It.


    A word we¡¯ve intended to reserve only for our wretch.


    But there are yet depths to our being just waiting to be explored and accepted, aren¡¯t there?


    At Theriya¡¯s instruction, we reach for a token object dense with emotional resonance.


    A well worn journal separates our past from the present we¡¯ve urged Theriya to embed into our chest.


    The Drake¡¯s dying cry erupts from our throat as a rush of memory and pain overwhelm our senses.


    Pain. Remorse. Pity.


    The last one causes our eyes to widen.


    Am we really so pitiable?


    All of the worst pages from our journal come immediately to mind.


    Sudden and violent loss.


    Feeling like a stranger in our own body.


    The precise moment we decided this body is no longer our own.


    How had we justified it? Living how Lenore saw in us ought to smother whatever it is we cannot stand.


    Snapdragon massages at the knots in our back, finding spots she missed earlier before drawing me close. "Hey. We''re here. You''re doing great. You¡¯ve just gotta push through it, okay? Focus on what you want out of this."


    She draws us to that moment of claiming our body as our own before we lose ourselves in a spiral.


    We¡¯re committed to seeing this effort through to the end.


    If there is something from this Drake¡¯s memories to be gained, we intend to claim it.


    Our chest burns as our body heals the wound, binding the bloody red garnet now set into our sternum.


    The gemstone is a part of us now.


    It drinks as deep of us as we do it, prompting a cycle of exchanges.


    We remember dying.


    Not once, but twice.


    You too?


    So young.


    We shove our own pity back into the gemstone with all the force of reminding the garnet that we were the ones to put the drake out of its misery.


    And in return, the garnet infects us with more of the drake''s perceptions. Of meddlesome quills, a persistent insect with a sharp sting, and a fiercely determined young drake whelp fighting to protect a most curious nest.


    The quills are an easy comparison to the Lunarian bolt throwers. Astraea and her spear being compared to a persistent insect sits in our mind as an uncomfortable comparison.


    But it¡¯s that last one that brings us to tears.


    We¡¯ve been so strong.


    Pushing through pain and heartfelt emotions.


    It can''t have seen us like that.


    We''re just... Staring into our reflection contained within a hand mirror and applying what we want to see in our memories.


    One acknowledgment is easy to brush aside.


    But the presence of memory and drake¡¯s blood cycling between the garnet and our body doesn¡¯t stop there. A presence churns through our memories, categorizing far too many people in our lives as mates and potential mates.


    We shift uncomfortably as we try to push back against the thought. Not out of any disagreement so much as attempting to deny the stone any right to weigh in on relationships it is not party to.


    Theriya searches our expression, having set down the broken implement aside after breaking off the gemstone into our chest. "How are you feeling?"


    Our lungs swell with an intake of breath. Scales click and clatter against each other as we flex our changing extremities. "It feels¡­¡± Our jaw and lungs produce a far different voice than we are used to hearing. ¡°Right to willingly claim a change to our body for once."


    Snapdragon''s embrace tightens around us. "That''s good to hear."


    Theriya expresses herself with a delightful laugh. "I was not opposed to hurting you as much as you needed me to. But even I must admit that it is good to see your body taking this as well as it does on the first try."


    Our talons gouge into the wood floor beneath us as we rise to our feet. Turning to share in the euphoria of a more guided set of changes, we find yet another change as we meet Snapdragon¡¯s gaze.


    We¡¯re shorter now. Not by much, but enough to be noticeable.


    ¡°Do a quick spin for me? I need to confirm you haven¡¯t torn your dress.¡±


    ¡°We didn¡¯t bother with a tail or wings.¡± We confirm, doing what is asked.


    ¡°Sorry about the loss of height. I should have mentioned that your body is likely to move things around.¡± Snapdragon couches her words in a hesitation that we quickly dispel by embracing her.


    ¡°Resonant gems are far from an exact science.¡± Theriya muses. ¡°You¡¯ll need to attend a Vylian academy for that kind of precision.¡±


    ¡°We''re okay.¡± We assure them, reaching for the implements and bag of blighted stones to be used as tools instead of fuel for any further transformation. One last glance at the mirror confirms that we¡¯ve gained more than we hoped for.


    More tears follow as a warmth builds in our lungs and cheeks.


    ¡°Oh Theriya. We cannot thank you enough.¡±


    My Seer shakes her head. ¡°You can thank me by not expending yourselves if you can help it. Anymore resonance and feeding you do from here on out are going to dilute it. Especially if you don¡¯t give it a day for the changes to settle.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll promise no such thing.¡± We say, our maw of a smile spreading wide with an easy self assurance. ¡°What you¡¯ve given us is precious.¡± A much desired change and act of rebellion both. ¡°Know this, beloved bound of ours. There is no length we would not go to in preserving you and yours.¡±


    Theriya lets out an exhausted sigh as she begins to clean the bloody tools intended to keep our wound from healing long enough to set the garnet in place. ¡°So long as you know that you are included in being mine, I can agree to that.¡±