Mother of Midnight

Chapter 107 – Why it Takes the Watch

Elira crawled out of her small tent and stretched tall, the cold morning air biting at her skin as she straightened her limbs. She was taller than most of the people she traveled with, her long frame standing out even amongst the more average heights of humans. Still, the lekine, Rava, was something else entirely—an imposing figure, full of raw strength and suspicion. Elira had hoped to make fast friends with the group, to build alliances quickly, but the reality was far more complicated than she had anticipated. Rava, ever the guarded warrior, had turned out to be more paranoid than Elira had hoped. Though she had agreed that the automaton and the strange woman would take the night watch, there was no mistaking the subtle wariness that lingered in her stance, as if expecting betrayal at any moment.

Elira wasn’t foolish enough to ignore that wariness. She had learned long ago that paranoia, while inconvenient, was often what kept one alive. She didn’t think Rava or Vivienne would make a move against them—not yet, at least—but in this kind of environment, it was always wise to stay alert. After all, in the end, everyone had their own motivations, and not everyone could be trusted right away. Even the best of allies could become dangerous if pushed in the wrong direction.

With a quiet sigh, Elira moved over to the fire. The warmth from the flames already felt inviting, a small comfort in the otherwise cold morning. She found the automaton standing near the fire, its motionless form a stark contrast to the crackling embers. Occasionally, it would use what looked like an oversized needle to poke at the fire, stirring it slightly but with an almost robotic precision. There was something unsettling about its lack of expression, its stillness. Elira had never met a construct like it before, and its complete lack of acknowledgement made her feel like an outsider in this strange group.

She sat down beside the fire, holding her hands out to the warmth. The cold from the night seemed to cling to her bones despite the fire’s heat, a reminder of the unforgiving wilderness they were traversing. She nodded her thanks to the automaton, though it offered no response. The lack of any real interaction made her pause. Golem, she thought to herself. No will of its own, just a puppet for its master. The thought lingered, but she pushed it away, focusing instead on the warmth seeping into her skin.

With a deep breath, Elira settled into the quiet morning. Her thoughts returned to the strange dynamic within the group. The Lekine, the automaton, the goblin, and the mysterious woman, Vivienne—they were an enigma, wrapped in layers of guarded personalities and hidden agendas. It was going to take time to earn their trust, if that was even possible. But in this world, time was something Elira had learned to spend wisely. For now, she would play the part of the friendly traveler, offering what little kindness she could. If she was lucky, it would be enough to break through Rava’s hardened exterior and loosen the grip of distrust that held the others.

She perked up when she heard sounds somewhere near the camp. Warily, she reached for the dagger at her hip and stood up, her boots crunching on the frosty grass as she crept to the edge of the camp with care. The night was unnervingly still, the kind of quiet that made every movement feel more pronounced. Then, she heard it—a low rumble, the unmistakable sounds of a struggle.

Her hand instinctively went to the hilt of her dagger, the cold metal reassuring in her grip. She stood stock still for a moment, listening, straining her ears in the stillness. The sounds grew louder, unmistakable now: the grinding of claws against flesh, a growl vibrating through the earth. Her heart skipped a beat.

She flinched when she saw a shadow hydra—a creature she’d heard only whispered rumors of—locked in a deadly struggle with what appeared to be a tempest bull. The night had already taken on a strange, otherworldly quality, but the sight of the hydra sent a chill through her bones.

What is it doing out here? And why is it so big? They shouldn’t be that big. She thought, pressing herself flat against the dirt and peering through the thicket of tall, frost-kissed grass. The hydra was formidable, though it looked worse for wear. One of its heads had been cleaved clean off, leaving a ragged stump of blackened, inky flesh. Its other heads snapped with viciousness, dripping ichor from the gouges carved into its form. Each remaining head bore a quartet of familiar crystalline horns—horns that gleamed with an otherworldly sheen in the weak light of the moon. Ornate rings ran down the length of each neck, symmetrical, and from what she could see, it looks like they didn’t hinder the hydra’s movement whatsoever.

And that tail... Elira’s eyes widened in disbelief as she watched the hydra's tail, a sleek obsidian blade, cut through the air with an unnerving precision. It was long, perhaps longer than she was tall, and it looked capable of severing limbs without hesitation.

The tempest bull wasn’t faring much better. Its enormous, muscular body was riddled with gaping wounds, large portions of flesh missing from its sides, exposing the bright white blood pouring from its wounds. The beast’s fur was matted with blood and dirt, but still, it fought on, trying to swing its horns in defense, though its energy was rapidly dwindling.

The hydra wasn’t done yet, though. With a ferocious hiss, one of its heads launched forward, its jaws snapping around the tempest bull’s throat. The strike was quick and brutal. Elira winced as the hydra’s claws ripped into the bull’s stomach, scoring a deep cut and sending a spray of blood into the air. The tempest bull fought back with a cry, its lightning-charged horns digging into the hydra’s underbelly. A flash of electric blue crackled through the night as the bull’s strike landed, but it wasn’t enough.

The hydra seemed unfazed, its heads working in unison now, striking, tearing, pulling at the tempest bull’s flesh in rapid succession. The bull’s energy was spent, and with a final, desperate thrash, it collapsed to the ground, its limbs twitching as life drained from it. The hydra stood over its fallen prey, its remaining heads flicking back and forth in satisfaction, hissing loudly into the night air, as though celebrating some macabre victory.

Elira’s blood ran cold when she saw the hydra turn its gaze in her direction, the eerie gleam of its remaining heads locking onto her position. She froze, barely breathing, but her heart was hammering in her chest.

The hydra’s movements were sluggish now, dragging the bull’s massive, broken body behind it with an unnatural grace. Despite its injuries, it was still a fearsome predator. As it began to move toward the camp, the ground seemed to shudder with each step, its obsidian tail swaying ominously behind it. The creature’s eyes—if one could call them that—shone with malevolent intent. Its nostrils flared, sensing something... or someone. Elira’s stomach dropped. It was heading straight for the camp.

Her mind raced, adrenaline flooding her system as she calculated her options. The camp wasn’t ready for an attack like this, and her group wasn’t prepared for something of this size. She couldn’t take it alone without breaking her cover.

She was about to cry out in alarm when the hydra rippled in form, its massive body twisting and shrinking with an unnatural fluidity. Elira’s blood froze like ice in her veins as she watched the creature transform before her eyes. The towering, multiple-headed monster was gone in an instant, replaced by the strange woman who had been kept from the ward. She looked no less terrifying, though—now, she was effortlessly dragging the tempest bull behind her, its enormous body being pulled along with ease, despite the creature being dozens of times larger than the woman herself. The contrast was almost comical if it weren't so unnerving.

Elira stood there, rooted in place, her heart hammering in her chest. She couldn't tear her gaze away from the creature now standing in front of her, her senses screaming that everything about this was wrong. The woman was a vision of unsettling beauty, with the same curvaceous, plump form that had caught Elira’s attention earlier. But the softness of her appearance did nothing to diminish the monstrous aura she radiated. There was something otherworldly about her, something so far removed from anything Elira had ever encountered.

The strange woman stopped just short of the ward, letting the tempest bull fall unceremoniously to the ground. Elira held her breath as she watched her, but then the woman’s face twisted, and her mouth—a fake, hollow façade of skin and bone—split open into a wide, monstrous grin, revealing sharp, jagged teeth beneath. It was the grin of a predator, the smile of something far more dangerous than any human.

Elira barely had time to register the change before the monster lunged forward, an unnatural speed propelling her right at the barrier. There was a violent crash as she collided with the ward, a crack resounding through the air, the sheer force of her impact shaking the ground beneath Elira’s feet. The monstrous creature slammed her body against the ward, and a long, serpentine tongue—longer than Elira’s arm—darted out, its tip curling against the shimmering barrier hungrily. The sight was enough to make Elira’s stomach turn.

“Good morning, darling,” the creature purred, her voice sweet and smooth, but there was no warmth in it. “I hope you slept well while I kept the beasties away.”

Elira recoiled instinctively, taking a step back, but the monster was so close, so alive with a sickening vitality. Her grin never wavered, the hunger in her eyes palpable as she loomed mere meters away, a physical manifestation of pure, unrestrained chaos.

In that moment, Elira was thankful for the barrier between them, though she had no idea how much longer it would hold. Her heartbeat was a loud drum in her chest, each beat a reminder of just how vulnerable she felt standing so close to this twisted creature. The woman—the monster—was a vision of beauty, but not the kind that comforted, not the kind that reassured. It was the kind of beauty that unsettled, that felt wrong, unnatural. Every fiber of her being screamed that something about this situation was a mistake, that she was standing on the edge of a precipice she had no business being near.

The creature’s eyes gleamed, dark and mocking, as though she could sense the fear emanating from Elira. Her smile widened, impossibly sharp, and her voice oozed with a strange sweetness that was all too unnatural.

“Awww, are you scared of little ol’ me?” The monster teased, her voice lilting in a way that sounded almost playful, but there was nothing innocent about it. She batted her long, dark eyelashes exaggeratedly, a mockery of charm. The gesture was both ridiculous and terrifying, as though she were toying with a mouse before it realized the trap had already been set.

“I’m not scary, I promise,” she purred, her tone too smooth, too seductive, as if her words could somehow melt the fear from Elira’s skin. The words hung in the air, far too calm for the chaos of the moment, and Elira could see the sickening amusement dancing in her eyes. It was as if the monster was savoring the fear she could practically taste in the air, enjoying the discomfort she was causing.

Elira’s hand instinctively hovered near her dagger again, her mind racing. The ward stood between them for now, but she couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling that the creature could easily overwhelm it, that it was just a temporary shield. The way she moved, the speed with which she’d transformed, the raw, inhuman power that radiated from her—it was too much. Too unnatural. Too terrifying.

She tried to steady her breath, squaring her shoulders, reminding herself that she wasn’t helpless. Not yet. But the longer she stared into the woman’s monstrous, too-pleasing grin, the more that certainty wavered.

The creature tilted her head slightly, as if savoring the unease radiating from Elira. Her smile, impossibly wide and sharp, never wavered as she studied her. "Don't worry, darling," she purred, voice smooth as silk but sharp beneath the surface, like a blade wrapped in velvet. "I'm not here to hurt you."

Elira remained frozen, every muscle in her body on high alert. The barrier still held, but that did little to ease the creeping dread curling in her gut. She was acutely aware of how fragile that thin line of protection was, how easily it could shatter.

Then, without warning, the creature spun on her heels, dismissing Elira entirely. It was as though she had lost interest in the human standing there. Elira’s heart skipped a beat, the brief lull in her fear quickly replaced by a rising sense of urgency. Now, she thought. Now is the time to act.

But the creature's next move made her hesitate. The woman—no, the monster—climbed effortlessly atop the fallen tempest bull, her movements smooth and predatory. For a moment, Elira considered rushing forward, sinking her dagger deep into the thing’s back, perhaps catching it off guard. But that thought died before it could fully take shape. As she watched, the horrific reality set in: the monster’s previous injuries—gashes from the hydra form—were gone, healed with disturbing speed. There wasn’t a trace left of the violent battle it had just fought.

The creature’s claws—no, they weren’t claws at all, but something far more unsettling, sharp and jagged—pierced the tempest bull’s flesh with a sickening sound, as if the beast’s skin had been butter, yielding so easily. Elira couldn’t tear her eyes away as the monster tore into the creature, the once-mighty bull now nothing more than a meal. Blood, thick and white, poured from the beast’s gaping wounds, splattering across the creature’s dress in grotesque, contrasting splotches.

It didn’t seem to care. The monster’s actions were so fluid, so detached, as she tore hunks of the bull’s flesh free, throwing them into her mouth with a grotesque speed and hunger. Her eyes never left the struggle of her feeding, devouring each bite as though she had not just consumed a massive beast, but an appetizer, her hunger far from satisfied.

Elira’s stomach twisted, the smell of blood and decay thick in the air. She could hear the wet, tearing sound of flesh being ripped apart, the crack of bones breaking beneath the strength of the monster’s bite. The ripping noise seemed to echo in her ears, matching the sick thrum of her own pulse.

And then, just as Elira thought she might be sick, the creature stopped mid-bite. It slowly turned her head to face Elira, her smile twisting wider. The eyes that once glimmered with malice now glowed with something darker, something more knowing, and in that moment, Elira understood: she wasn’t just a source of amusement to this thing, she was part of it’s game.

“Oh, I am so sorry, darling.” The monster's voice dripped with false sweetness, like a predator teasing its prey. "Did you want some?" she asked, her tone sickly sweet. "Tempest aether is so delicious... It would be a shame not to share."

The words were an invitation, sickeningly polite, but every fiber of Elira’s being recoiled at the offer. She had no desire to be part of this twisted feast, no interest in whatever madness the monster was reveling in. The sight of the creature, blood and sinew smeared across her lips, and the gleam of satisfaction in her eyes made Elira’s stomach churn.

“No," Elira whispered, shaking her head, though the words were barely more than a strangled murmur in her throat. Her hand tightened on the hilt of her dagger, but she made no move to attack. The barrier still held, and she knew, deep down, that it was her only real protection.

The monster simply shrugged, her grin unwavering. "More for me then," she purred, as though Elira’s disgust meant nothing. The words hung in the air like the scent of death, and Elira could only stand there, helpless, as the creature continued her macabre feast.