Mother of Midnight

Chapter 103 – The Outro

Kivvy hated waiting. She always had. Her masters used to make her wait for everything. Wait for orders, wait for tasks, wait for them to remember she was there. And when there was nothing for her to do, they’d remind her, "A busy goblin is a good goblin." But, of course, that "busy" was always tied to their needs, never her own. It was always in service to their work for Praxus, their god of order and control. It wasn’t even like she had a choice in the matter.

But these new people... they were different. They didn’t make her wait for anything, at least not the same way. No harsh orders, no gruff demands. They didn't bark at her when she wasn’t busy, and they didn’t treat her like some tool to be used up and discarded. When she said she wanted to do something, they didn’t scold her or give her endless tasks. They simply shrugged, nodded, and let her go about her business. She could do whatever she wanted, as long as it didn’t cause a problem. That part confused her, at first. She had expected them to push back, to punish her for testing their patience the way her masters always had. But there was none of that. No canes, no pain, no aether-infused commands.

And the weirdest part? They didn’t even get angry when she complained. That was a strange freedom in itself. Complaining was something she did by instinct—it made her feel better, like she could vent out whatever frustration was gnawing at her. It didn’t matter if the pain was physical or mental; as long as she could complain, it seemed more bearable. It was almost like a release, a cleansing ritual, even if the problems themselves weren’t going anywhere.

She grinned at the thought. She liked these people. They were different, and for once, different was good. Sure, there was one little thing that gnawed at her—a small discomfort in her gut. None of them were her sisters. She missed them, even if she’d never admit it out loud. But there was also the... monster. The one who ate people. Vivienne. That was a bit of an issue. Kivvy had watched her rip into those poor bastards with a voracious hunger. It was brutal, horrifying, and strangely fascinating. Some of the people had definitely deserved it, and some didn’t... probably. Kivvy wasn’t sure. She hadn’t exactly been keeping score on who deserved what. But when it came down to it, Vivienne was a monster, and Kivvy couldn’t exactly ignore that.

But then again, Kivvy didn’t care much for fairness. The world was messy, people were messy, and maybe that’s how things had to be sometimes. Still, as long as the monster found her amusing, there probably wasn’t anywhere in this cruel world that was safer than beside Vivienne. 

The mannequin was very weird, though. Kivvy had seen a lot of strange things in her life, but this one... it made her uneasy in a way she couldn’t quite explain. It didn’t speak—not that she expected much conversation—but its silence wasn’t the usual kind. It was heavy, oppressive, and almost deliberate, like it was daring her to say something first. And the way it moved? That was a whole other level of strange.

It would spend time standing at the edge of the ward, its featureless face tilted toward the ruins where the other two had gone. Not doing anything. Not making a sound. Just watching. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, it would begin patrolling. Always in perfect, precise circles, as if following some invisible boundary line only it could see. The movements were eerily mechanical, each step measured to the exact same length, each turn a precise ninety degrees. Kivvy had counted once, out of sheer boredom—it never deviated. Not by a fraction.

And then there was the standing. That was the worst part. Sometimes, it would simply stop whatever it was doing and stand there. Near her. Too near. It wouldn’t move, wouldn’t sway, wouldn’t even twitch. Just stood there, like a statue carved from wood and cloth, with that unsettling stitched seam running down its blank face. And it could do this for hours. Literal hours. Kivvy had tried to ignore it at first, pretending to be busy or deliberately looking in another direction, but it didn’t help. The mannequin was always there, silently looming, like it was waiting for something—or maybe watching her in its own unsettling way.

Kivvy had even waved a hand in front of it once, just to test it. Nothing. No reaction. Not even a tilt of its head. It was like it wasn’t really alive, like it was just an empty shell that sometimes remembered how to move. But then there were the moments when it would suddenly spring into motion, as fluid and graceful as any living creature, and Kivvy would remember—oh, it was alive. Or something close enough to it.

Rava was the closest thing Kivvy had to normal in this strange, mismatched band she’d somehow ended up with. Sure, she towered over Kivvy—more than twice her height, and then some—but at least she had the decency to look and act like a person most of the time. She didn’t sprout extra heads or gnash her teeth like a man-eating monster, and she wasn’t some unsettling automaton with a blank face and unnerving stillness.

No, Rava was just... Rava. Big, gruff, and strong, but also surprisingly easy to talk to when Kivvy worked up the nerve. She didn’t try to intimidate Kivvy or bark orders at her like the masters back home had. And while Kivvy wasn’t ready to say she liked anyone in this group yet, she could admit—at least to herself—that Rava wasn’t so bad. She had a way of making things feel grounded, even when the world around them was anything but.

And, despite her size, there was something oddly comforting about her presence. Maybe it was the way she carried herself, solid and dependable, like you could lean on her, literally or figuratively, and she wouldn’t budge. Or maybe it was the fact that, out of everyone here, Rava seemed the least likely to snap and do something insane. That counted for a lot when one of your companions was a monster who ate people and the other... well, whatever the mannequin was.

Still, Kivvy couldn’t quite figure Rava out. There was an ease to the way she carried herself, a confidence that made her seem untouchable, but it didn’t feel like arrogance. It was like Rava had lived through enough to know what truly mattered and what didn’t, and that made her presence feel steady, reassuring even. Yet, every now and then, there was something in her—a subtle shift in her expression or a quiet hesitation—that hinted at depths Kivvy couldn’t see.

It wasn’t unsettling, but it did make Kivvy wonder. Rava wasn’t like the masters she’d known, who flaunted their power and hid their weaknesses behind cruelty. Whatever Rava was keeping to herself, it wasn’t born of fear or malice. If anything, it seemed like she carried it quietly, like a weight she’d learned to bear without complaint. It was strange to Kivvy, but not unpleasant. If anything, it made her respect Rava more.

For now, though, Kivvy was content to stick close to Rava whenever she could. If nothing else, it was nice to have someone around who didn’t make her skin crawl or her stomach churn. That was more than she could say for the others.

Her latest count of Renzia’s patrols was cut short when two figures appeared on the horizon, just beyond the edge of the ward. At first, Kivvy thought her eyes were playing tricks on her. The sight was almost surreal—Vivienne, the monster who couldn’t even step inside the ward, was waiting just at the boundary. She stood with her arms full, holding Rava, the towering warrior who now looked far too small and far too limp in her grasp.

It would have been funny—almost absurd—if the scene didn’t set her nerves on edge. Rava, so strong and unshakable, the closest thing Kivvy had to stability in this bizarre group, lay limp in the monsters arms, her head resting against her shoulder. And Vivienne, terrifying and impossible, stood there as though this were the most natural thing in the world, her shadowy presence only magnified by the boundary that seemed to hum faintly in rejection of her existence.

Kivvy’s stomach twisted, her thoughts a jumble of conflicting emotions. She wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of the sight—tiny Vivienne carrying the giant warrior like she weighed nothing—but the unease creeping up her spine refused to let her. This wasn’t normal. Nothing about this group was normal, but this felt like a new level of wrong.

Renzia, standing nearby, froze mid-patrol. The mannequin tilted her head slightly, the movement uncanny and unnervingly precise, her gaze fixed on the scene. Kivvy wasn’t sure if it was concern or calculation—or if Renzia was even capable of feeling anything at all.

As Kivvy’s mind raced, Vivienne’s voice cut through the tension, carrying over the distance with an unnatural clarity. “She’s fine,” Vivienne called, her tone light, almost mocking, as if to undercut the gravity of the situation. “You’ll have to help me get her past this little barrier, though. Not exactly invited in.”

Kivvy hesitated, her instincts warring with her better judgment. She took a tentative step forward, calling out, “What happened? Did she—?” Her voice faltered, unable to finish the question.

Vivienne’s dark eyes glinted with amusement. “Relax. She’s just exhausted. Turns out Rava’s got limits after all. Who knew? Wait, I did!”

Kivvy frowned, glancing warily at Rava, who groaned faintly, her voice just audible. “Stop... talking like I’m not here...”

Kivvy exhaled sharply, relief loosening her tense shoulders. She glanced toward Renzia, who stood as still as a statue, unflinching in her eerie way, then shifted her gaze back to Vivienne. “Fine,” she muttered, crossing her arms. “But I’m not exactly the powerhouse of the group. Pretty sure that’s you two.”

The monster’s grin widened, teeth sharp enough to make Kivvy flinch instinctively. “You are so funny, darling!” Vivienne replied, her tone lilting and playful in a way that only made her more unsettling.

Then Vivienne’s dark gaze flicked past Kivvy, landing somewhere just behind her. Kivvy froze, dread prickling her spine as she reluctantly turned to follow Vivienne’s line of sight. Her heart nearly jumped into her throat when she saw the mannequin standing there, unnervingly close, her featureless face tilted slightly as if watching them.

“Don’t do that!” Kivvy yelped, taking a quick step back. Her hand hovered near her dagger—not that it would do her much good.

Vivienne chuckled, the sound low and entirely too pleased with itself. “Sweetheart,” she addressed the mannequin, her voice carrying an unnerving sweetness, “do you think you could carry Rava to her bedroll?”

Renzia tilted her head further, a creak of wood and cloth breaking the silence, before stepping forward in one fluid motion. There was no hesitation, no acknowledgement of Kivvy’s lingering unease—just that silent, mechanical compliance.

Kivvy watched, equal parts fascinated and unnerved, as the mannequin reached the ward’s edge, waiting just outside like a loyal dog awaiting a command. “She’s not going to drop her, right?” Kivvy asked, her voice quieter now, unsure.

Vivienne grinned, sharp and confident. “Of course not. Renzia’s very reliable. Aren’t you, sweetheart?”

The mannequin didn’t answer—not that she ever could—but the slightest incline of her head was enough to send another shiver down Kivvy’s spine.

Renzia moved with her usual eerie precision, but it was clear this task was pushing her limits. As she took her first few steps with Rava cradled in her arms, the strain on her frame became apparent. Her joints creaked slightly under the weight, and her movements, usually smooth and deliberate, were now slower, more labored.

Kivvy watched with a mix of unease and fascination as the mannequin carried the towering warrior. Rava wasn’t just tall—she was built solidly, her form a testament to her strength and resilience. Watching someone as small and spindly-looking as Renzia attempt to manage that weight was almost painful to witness.

For a moment, it seemed like Renzia might falter. She paused mid-step, her wooden frame shifting subtly as she readjusted her grip. Kivvy’s breath caught, and she half-expected to see Rava tumble to the ground.

But the mannequin held steady. Slowly, deliberately, she continued forward, her steps deliberate and precise, as if each one were calculated to keep her balance. Kivvy noticed her movements were no longer the perfect, fluid motions she was used to seeing. Instead, there was an almost human struggle in how she leaned into each step, her wooden limbs groaning faintly with the effort.

Vivienne, still standing nearby, seemed unbothered by the display. She leaned against a broken piece of stone, her arms crossed as she watched with a faint smile. “See? She’s got it,” she said, her tone breezy, though her dark eyes were locked intently on Renzia.

Kivvy’s tail flicked nervously. “She doesn’t look like she’s got it,” she muttered, her gaze darting back to the mannequin.

But despite the visible strain, Renzia pressed on. Step by step, she carried Rava across the uneven ground, her movements slow but determined. By the time she reached Rava’s bedroll, her frame was trembling faintly, the faint creaks of her wooden joints more pronounced.

Gingerly, she knelt and lowered Rava onto the makeshift bedding. The motion was careful and deliberate, as if she were handling something fragile. Once Rava was settled, Renzia remained kneeling for a moment, her head tilting slightly as if checking her work before finally rising.

Kivvy let out a low whistle, half out of relief and half out of genuine admiration. “Guess she’s tougher than she looks,” she muttered.

Vivienne chuckled, pushing off the stone and strolling toward them. “Renzia’s full of surprises,” she said, her grin flashing sharp in the dim light. “She doesn’t look it, but she’s got more grit than most people I’ve met.”

Renzia turned her head slightly at Vivienne’s words, the faintest flicker of acknowledgment in her otherwise blank posture.

Kivvy sighed, crossing her arms as she tried to process what she’d just seen. “This group gets weirder by the minute.”

Vivienne smirked, her gaze flicking between Kivvy and the now motionless mannequin. “Weird’s what keeps things interesting, darling. You’ll learn to love it. Normal is so gauche.”

Kivvy coughed awkwardly, her eyes darting between Vivienne and the horns now protruding from her head. “So, uh, are those new?” she asked, her voice betraying a bit of hesitation as she pointed at the four asymmetrical crystalline horns jutting from Vivienne’s skull.

Vivienne raised one long claw and ran it along the length of a horn, the motion almost casual, though the sharpness of her features made the gesture seem unnervingly deliberate. “I suppose so,” she mused, her voice lilting with amusement. “How do I look? I would hope I look rather fetching with horns.”

Kivvy gulped, trying not to let the unease take root too deeply. The horns were jagged and angular, with veins of glowing aether running through them. They shimmered in the dim light, unnatural and unsettling, and they gave Vivienne a more imposing presence than ever. “They, uh, look terrifying,” Kivvy stammered, her voice far too small for the monstrous being standing before her.

Vivienne’s grin spread wider, stretching too far for comfort, her razor-sharp teeth gleaming with a predator’s hunger. Kivvy couldn’t help the shiver that ran down her spine, remembering all too clearly the way Vivienne had so easily torn through flesh only days ago, the gruesome display of power that had both mesmerized and repelled her. The gnawing question resurfaced—why had she agreed to come along? Why stay?

Vivienne’s grin seemed to grow even more unsettling, if that was possible. “Aww, Kivvy, you really know how to make a girl blush,” she purred, her voice smooth, almost seductive, but layered with an edge that made the air around them feel heavier.

Kivvy didn’t know how to respond to that. The words hung in the air between them, charged with a tension that Kivvy wasn’t entirely sure she was ready for. She had learned quickly that, in Vivienne’s world, compliments were often laced with something darker, more dangerous. The image of Vivienne's dark eyes flickering with predatory intent made Kivvy’s throat tighten, and she instinctively took a half-step back.

“That’s—uh, that’s not what I meant.” Kivvy stammered, suddenly feeling very small and out of place. She glanced at the others, half-hoping someone would save her from this conversation, but the camp was still quiet, everyone going about their own tasks. Kivvy was alone with the monster, and it was starting to feel like it.

Vivienne's grin softened into something more playful, though still laced with that same unsettling energy. “I know what you meant, darling,” she said, her voice dropping into that dark, honeyed tone. “But it’s cute to see you flounder a little. You’re so much more fun when you’re nervous.”

Kivvy couldn’t help the flush that crept up her neck, terror and embarrassment mixing in equal measure. Her skin felt hot as Vivienne’s gaze seemed to burn into her, an unsettling attention that only seemed to grow sharper with every second. “I’m not nervous,” she muttered, trying to steady her breathing, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her. She hated how it sounded so small, so unsure. Unfortunately, the all-consuming monster seemed to take this as encouragement.

Vivienne’s grin stretched wider, an almost predatory satisfaction flickering in her dark eyes. “Oh, but you are,” she purred, her voice dangerously soft, as if savoring the discomfort it caused. “There’s nothing wrong with it, darling. A little bit of fear makes things... interesting. Don’t you think?”

Kivvy’s heart hammered in her chest. The monster’s words had the power to make her blood run cold, and yet, there was something else—something thrilling in the way Vivienne spoke, like the quiet before a storm. Kivvy swallowed hard, her mouth dry, wishing she could think of something clever to say, but the weight of Vivienne’s presence seemed to suck the words right out of her.

Vivienne stepped a little closer, her movement slow, calculated, every motion measured in a way that made Kivvy feel both drawn in and repelled at the same time. “You know,” Vivienne continued, her voice still thick with that unsettling amusement, “it’s cute when you try to act tough. But I can tell you’re not fooling anyone. Not me, at least.”

Kivvy was stuck between wanting to argue and simply freezing in place. Her instincts screamed at her to say something—anything—but all that came out was a strangled, “I’m not... trying to act tough.”

Vivienne’s grin softened just a little, as though she found Kivvy’s struggle both amusing and endearing. “No? You know I can literally taste fear, yes?” she asked, voice dropping low and smooth, her gaze flicking to Kivvy’s hands, which were now clenched tightly by her sides. “You’re not fooling anyone, darling. Not with those trembling hands.”

Kivvy’s face went redder, her hands instinctively jerking into fists, as if trying to hide the evidence of her unease. She wanted to disappear into the ground, to escape this conversation altogether, but the words kept coming, relentless, pushing her into the corner.

Vivienne tilted her head slightly, her sharp eyes glinting with amusement. “I know you’re afraid of me, Kivvy. Afraid of what I am. Afraid of what I might do.” The words were not said with malice, but with an almost playful teasing that made Kivvy’s breath catch in her throat. The way Vivienne looked at her, the way she so casually dissected every inch of her, made her feel exposed—vulnerable in a way she didn’t like. She was suddenly extra thankful there was a barrier between them.

But Vivienne wasn’t done yet. “And that’s okay,” she added, the smile twisting into something darker. “Fear keeps people alive. It sharpens their instincts, makes them more... aware.” Her eyes seemed to pierce through Kivvy, as if she could see every crack, every weakness, and revel in it. “But don’t worry, darling. I won’t bite—unless you want me to.”

Kivvy’s stomach churned at the suggestion. She wasn’t sure if she was disgusted or terrified or, gods help her, maybe even a little intrigued. The dynamic between them had shifted again, and Kivvy was still trying to figure out what game Vivienne was playing.

Vivienne’s grin grew wider as she watched Kivvy squirm, clearly relishing the effect her words had. “You’re such an open book, Kivvy,” she murmured. “You wear your fear so well.”

“Shut up,” Kivvy snapped, her voice more forceful now, though the sharpness only came as a desperate attempt to regain control. It didn’t work. Vivienne’s eyes gleamed brighter, that predatory grin only widening at Kivvy’s outburst.

“Cute,” Vivienne purred. “But you can’t hide it. It’s written all over you, darling.” She leaned in just slightly, her face still too close, her presence overwhelming. “Don’t worry, though. Fear doesn’t have to be a bad thing. We all have it. Even me.”

Kivvy’s brow furrowed, momentarily taken aback. Even Vivienne? The thought felt surreal. The monster that had torn through enemies, that radiated power and danger, was admitting to fear? What in the world would scare her?

She swallowed, trying to steady herself, but Vivienne didn’t give her time to ask the questions swirling in her head. Instead, Vivienne took a step back, her grin finally softening, the intensity in her eyes almost amused now.

“Alright, darling,” she said, her voice still tinged with that dark, unshakable amusement. “You’re no fun when you’re so jumpy. I’ll leave you to your own devices... for now.”

With that, Vivienne turned away, but not without shooting one last glance at Kivvy, who was still trying to catch her breath. The monster’s words lingered in the air like a heavy fog, thick with meaning, and Kivvy couldn’t shake the feelings that its honeyed words left with her.