novelraw Chapter 131 – The Dam
Chapter 131 – The Dam
Rava sat by the crackling fire, its warmth doing little to ease the tension knotted in her chest. She didn’t need to take watch; that was a luxury she was becoming dangerously accustomed to. With Renzia ever-vigilant, her blank, glowing gaze constantly scanning the surroundings, and Vivienne prowling the plains, hunting down anything foolish enough to approach their camp, Rava had enjoyed the rare privilege of full nights of sleep.
It almost felt like a bad habit.
But tonight, sleep felt distant. She stared into the fire, the flickering flames casting dancing shadows on her features. Anxiety gnawed at her, a slow, steady pulse of unease. Vivienne’s wound—her ever-bleeding, stubborn wound—was weighing heavily on her mind. And it wasn’t just the injury itself, but what Kivvy had told her: how Vivienne’s behavior had changed after their battle with the beacon. That strange, tense moment when something shifted in her.
Then there was the war. Always looming on the horizon, an inescapable shadow growing darker with every step they took.
Rava clenched her jaw. The stoic mask she wore so well was beginning to crack beneath the pressure. It wasn’t just the threat of what lay ahead—it was the memories of what had come before. Her fingers curled tightly into fists, nails digging into her palms as if the pressure alone could ground her swirling thoughts.
“A Serkoth betrays no emotion. Emotion is a tool, but it should never rule in the moment,” her mother’s voice echoed in her mind. A lesson repeated endlessly throughout her childhood, sometimes as words of instruction, other times as a cold, hard reminder after a misstep. For a decade, that teaching had been drilled into her, figuratively and, on occasion, literally beaten into her.
Emotion is a tool. But what use was a tool if it dulled under constant pressure?
Rava exhaled sharply, forcing herself to unclench her fists. Emotion wasn’t ruling her—she wouldn’t allow it. But it was there, lurking just beneath the surface, like a beast waiting to pounce.
And that damned woman.
How could someone be so terrifying and yet leave her so enraptured? Even now, when the fire crackled softly and the camp was at ease, the barest memory of Vivienne's sing-song voice echoed in her mind. That voice… melodious, beautiful, and unnervingly sweet, as if crafted to disarm while it drew fear out of anyone caught in its spell. There was something haunting about how effortlessly Vivienne played with that line between charm and menace. Rava hated how it affected her, how it lingered long after the woman had gone hunting or coiled up somewhere to rest.
It wasn’t just the voice—it was everything about her. The sharp, knowing eyes, the dangerous grace with which she moved, that smile she wore like a weapon. Even now, despite everything they’d been through together, Rava couldn’t fully understand her. Vivienne was an enigma, equal parts ally and unknown threat. A serpent in more ways than one.
She leaned forward, resting her forearms on her knees as she stared into the fire, trying to clear her mind. The warmth of the flames did little to melt the cold knot coiled in her chest. It wasn’t anxiety—at least, that’s what she told herself. No, it was something far more irritating.
Every woman she had bedded before was nothing more than a fleeting indulgence, a momentary distraction from duty. Yet, Vivienne clung to her thoughts, a maddening presence even when absent. Worse still was the feeling that crept beneath her skin—a desire that went beyond the physical, something deeper, more dangerous. She hated how much she craved it.
Vivienne, with all her sharp edges, could terrify most with a single look or word. That voice of hers, sweet yet unsettling, like a melody woven with blades. But when it was just the two of them… that menace faded. The fearsome woman who inspired dread in others became something else entirely: pliant, yielding, almost vulnerable beneath Rava’s touch. And Rava found herself captivated by that shift, by the contradiction of a creature so powerful submitting to her.
With a sharp exhale, she sat back, forcing her hands to relax. She needed to focus, needed to steel herself. There was no room for weakness, not with war on the horizon and so much riding on what lay ahead. Yet, even as she tried to lock her emotions away, she knew it wouldn’t be enough. Vivienne wasn’t something she could set aside.
Rava leaned back slightly, resting on her hands as she regarded Vivienne as the nightmare approached. The warmth of the flames did little to ease her tension, but the presence of the other woman made it… different. Not better, not worse—just something else entirely. That damned smile, playful and predatory all at once, always managed to throw her off balance.
“Relaxing’s never been my strong suit,” Rava said curtly, her eyes locked on Vivienne. “Some of us don’t have the luxury of hunting the night away and coming back whole.”
Vivienne chuckled softly, a low, melodic sound that sent an unbidden shiver up Rava’s spine. “You say that like it’s easy. Trust me, sweetheart, being ‘whole’ isn’t as effortless as I make it look.” She stretched out her legs, the crystalline sheen of her scaled limbs gleaming faintly. “Besides, I prefer the company out here.” Her tone dipped slightly, taking on a more intimate lilt. “Especially yours.”
Rava bristled slightly at that. She wasn’t used to this—this kind of attention, this casual teasing wrapped in something deeper. Vivienne had a way of getting under her skin, and what frustrated her most was that it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. It left her feeling exposed in a way that years of battle and discipline never had.
“Is everything a game to you?” Rava asked, her voice sharper than intended.
Vivienne tilted her head, her smile never wavering. “Not everything.” Her eyes gleamed, dark and enigmatic. “But it’s easier to play games than to dwell on the unpleasant truths of the world. You know how it is, don’t you? Putting on a mask, pretending you’re in control when everything around you feels like it’s falling apart.”
Rava’s jaw tightened. That hit far too close to home. She didn’t respond immediately, letting the silence stretch between them, punctuated only by the crackling fire. Vivienne’s gaze didn’t waver, though—calm, steady, as if daring her to confront the truth in those words.
“I don’t wear masks,” Rava said finally, her voice quieter but firm. “I deal with things head-on. Hiding behind games and smiles doesn’t change reality.”
“Maybe not,” Vivienne agreed, her smile softening slightly. “But it makes the weight easier to bear, doesn’t it?”
Rava hated how much sense that made. She hated even more that Vivienne could say something so disarmingly insightful, only to follow it up with that maddeningly smug expression.
Still, she said nothing. There was no point in arguing further. Instead, she shifted her gaze back to the fire, watching the flames dance. She was aware of Vivienne watching her, but somehow it didn’t feel oppressive. It was just… there, like a presence she couldn’t ignore but didn’t entirely mind.
After a moment, Vivienne spoke again, her tone lighter this time. “You never answered my question.”
Rava glanced at her warily. “What question?”
“Why you’re so tense. You’ve got that look—like you’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders.” Vivienne leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on her hand. “Or is it just that you don’t like being alone with me?”
Rava snorted softly, more out of reflex than amusement. “You’re not that special.”
Vivienne’s grin widened. “Oh, Rava, you wound me.” There was a playful lilt to her words, but something in her gaze flickered—something deeper, more serious, if only for a moment. “But if it’s not me, then what is it?”
Rava hesitated, torn between keeping her walls up and letting something slip through the cracks. Finally, she exhaled sharply, deciding that a half-truth would suffice. “There’s too much going on. Too many unknowns. And I don’t like feeling… unprepared.”
“Fair enough,” Vivienne said with a nod, her expression turning thoughtful. “But you don’t have to do it all alone, you know. We’re in this together.” She leaned back against the rock again, her gaze drifting up to the darkened sky. “For better or worse.”
Rava studied her for a moment, trying to gauge the sincerity behind those words. Vivienne’s expression was as enigmatic as ever, her five eyes glimmering faintly in the firelight, unreadable in their depth and stillness. Yet there was something in her tone—a subtle undercurrent—that felt genuine. It was strange, hearing something so earnest from someone who thrived on chaos, someone who delighted in being unpredictable and untouchable. But maybe that was exactly why it mattered.
Vivienne was a paradox, a creature of contradictions. She was both terrifying and captivating, a nightmare given form, yet she had moments like this—moments when the veil of menace she wore slipped, just slightly, allowing a fleeting glimpse of something more vulnerable underneath. For all her confidence and playful cruelty, there were cracks in that perfect, haunting façade.
Rava caught herself wondering, not for the first time, what Vivienne had truly been like before this world, before the gods, had twisted her into the creature she was now. Vivienne had once claimed she used to be timid and anxious, constantly fretting over things beyond her control. Rava tried to picture it—the ever-confident woman sitting across from her, once meek and uncertain, ruled by fear rather than instilling it in others. It was almost impossible to imagine.
Still, there was a quiet truth buried beneath those words. The gods, this war, this unforgiving world—they had taken that version of Vivienne and forged her into something far different. Whether it was something stronger or simply more broken, Rava couldn’t yet decide. Perhaps it was both. What she did know was that the woman before her, for all her quirks and chaos, had depths Rava couldn’t yet fully fathom. And that fascinated her more than she cared to admit.
“You are staring at me an awful lot. Do I have something in my face, or am I just that cute?” Vivienne asked with a wide grin and a tilt to her head.
Rava blinked, breaking her gaze away from Vivienne, her lips pressing together in an almost imperceptible frown. She hadn't realized how long she'd been watching, or how much she'd been studying the shifting play of emotions across Vivienne's face. There was something disarming about her, about how her confidence never wavered, even when she was being genuinely vulnerable.
“Just trying to figure you out,” Rava muttered, her voice quieter than usual, a little more thoughtful. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to acknowledge how much she’d let slip in that brief moment of silence. Her usual walls had cracked, and she could feel it. Vivienne had a way of digging beneath the surface, of unsettling even the most steadfast defenses.
Vivienne's grin faltered for the briefest moment, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her features. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by her trademark playfulness. She leaned forward, her five eyes sparkling in the firelight as her lips curled into an exaggerated pout.
“Oh? Figured me out yet? Or am I still a mystery?” She tilted her head again, her long, shimmering hair catching the light as it shifted with her movement. “Because, sweetheart, you’re really starting to make me feel like I’m the one on trial here.”
Rava smirked, though the playful edge didn’t quite mask the slight tension still lingering between them. “You’re an enigma, Vivienne. I don’t think anyone could figure you out completely.”
The way Vivienne's lips curled at the edges, that knowing grin stretching wider, told Rava everything she needed to know. Vivienne thrived on that—on being the puzzle, the untouchable force that no one could fully grasp. She was a creature of contradictions, constantly shifting between power and fragility, never quite allowing herself to be pinned down.
Vivienne’s voice dropped a few notes, smooth and intimate, threading through the air like a secret meant only for Rava’s ears. “Is that what you want, then? To figure me out?” There was a quiet vulnerability in her words, a shift that was almost imperceptible, but it was there, like the briefest crack in a fortress. “For you, I’m an open book. If you want to know something about me, you can just ask.”
Rava raised an eyebrow, the sudden openness catching her off guard. The idea of Vivienne—untouchable Vivienne—offering something so unguarded was unsettling, but also oddly compelling. She studied her for a long moment, trying to figure out if this was another game or if there was something more to it. Vivienne had a way of offering just enough, always teetering on the edge of truth without ever giving it all away.
“You’re an open book?” Rava mused, her voice playful but laced with skepticism. “Seems to me like you’ve got a lot of pages missing. Or maybe just some chapters you don’t want anyone to read.”
Vivienne chuckled softly, the sound light but laced with a sharp edge. “You’re not wrong.” Her eyes glimmered with a knowing sparkle. “But I’ve always been selective about what I let others see. It’s easier that way. Keeps things... simple.” Her gaze softened for a brief second, just enough to make Rava question whether Vivienne was showing a side of herself that no one ever got to see.
Rava leaned forward slightly, the flicker of curiosity igniting in her chest. “Maybe I like it when things aren’t simple. Maybe I want to know the parts of you that you keep hidden.”
There was a long, heavy silence between them, the air thick with unspoken thoughts. Rava’s mind raced with the possibilities, but instead of pressing further into the challenge Vivienne had laid down, she found herself shifting gears, her curiosity turning in a new direction.
Rava’s voice cut through the air, quiet but insistent. “Would you tell me more about your world? You’ve told me about your husband and children, but what about parents or siblings?”
The question hung there between them, and for a moment, Vivienne didn’t speak. Her gaze shifted to the fire, the crackling flames flickering in the still night air, and something distant and fleeting flickered behind her eyes. For the briefest of moments, it was as if the woman before Rava was no longer the fierce, unshakable force she had come to know, but a faint reflection of someone long gone.
Vivienne cleared her throat softly and finally met Rava’s gaze, the moment passing as quickly as it came. She didn’t want to go into too much detail. She wasn’t the type to dwell on memories, especially ones that belonged to a life that felt far too distant.
“It was... normal. A place with no gods, no magic, just people. People going about their day, working, living, surviving.” Her lips twitched, a ghost of a smile. “I used to be just like them, really. Before all of this.”
Her eyes flicked to the fire again, and she seemed to almost be talking to herself now. “I had a family. Parents, siblings... It wasn’t anything special. My father was a teacher, my mother worked at some office job—nothing exciting, really. We lived in a small house, in a small town, and everything was... well, ordinary.”
For a fleeting moment, there was a wistful glimmer in Vivienne’s eyes. “I guess there’s something nice about that. A life where everything is predictable. Where you don’t have to worry about things like magic ripping apart your reality or gods deciding you’re the next tool in their little games.” She chuckled softly, but the sound was hollow, as if the very idea of a normal life had become a distant dream.
“My siblings and I, we’d do simple things—nothing grand. Play in the yard, help around the house... You know, family stuff.” Vivienne’s smile softened, just for a moment, a fleeting crack in her usual sharpness. “My little sister used to bug me to teach her how to ride a bike. I’d get so frustrated with her, always making the same mistakes, but I’d do it anyway. I don’t know why I did. I guess she was persistent.”
She shook her head, as if trying to shake off the softness in her voice. “Then everything changed when I came out. That’s when things went sour. They weren’t as understanding as I hoped.” She gave a small, humorless laugh, as though the thought of it had become something to dismiss. “I had to find a new family, one that didn’t care about who I was, but what I could become.”
Rava tilted her head, intrigued but also cautious. “Came out?” She repeated, her voice steady but laced with a hint of curiosity. “What do you mean?”
Vivienne met her gaze, her expression hardening slightly as she considered the question. She could feel the walls going up again, the instinct to keep her secrets tight. But something about Rava’s steady presence kept her from retreating fully. The idea of answering felt both uncomfortable and strangely freeing.
“Yeah,” Vivienne said, her voice quieter now, though still edged with her usual dry humor. “Came out. Back on Earth, I wasn’t exactly... how I am now. I was different. I hadn’t figured things out about myself yet. So, I did what most people do—tried to fit in, tried to be someone I wasn’t. Put on this mask and hoped no one would notice it slipping.” She let out a breath, like the weight of those old memories was starting to press in on her. “Then, one day, I just stopped pretending. I was tired of the act.”
She paused, her gaze distant, as if recalling something she'd rather forget. "I told them the truth. I wasn’t the son they thought I was. Or the person they wanted me to be." Vivienne’s tone turned sharp, bitter. “And that... that didn’t go over well. Not at all.”
It clicked for Rava then—the reason why, back when they first met, the very idea of being called a man had made Vivienne so furious. It wasn’t just a matter of words; it was deeper. It was the weight of a past she’d left behind, one where she was forced to conform to a version of herself she could no longer stand. And then, when she’d crafted her new form, the one with those undeniably feminine curves and that voice that was as haunting as it was alluring, Rava finally understood. Vivienne hadn’t just been elated. She’d been liberated.
“It was why my wife left me,” Vivienne said, her voice thick with something between bitterness and resignation. “She couldn’t handle it. The woman I was becoming… it terrified her.” A mirthless chuckle escaped her lips, hollow and humorless. “You’d think, by twenty ninety-eight, we’d have been past all that. But no. She couldn’t accept me for who I was. Not in the way I needed her to.”
Vivienne paused, her eyes darkening as memories that were still sharp and painful resurfaced. “She used to tell me it was just a phase, that I was 'confused.' I tried to explain, tried to show her that I was finally being true to myself, but it was like talking to a wall. She couldn’t see past the image she had of me in her mind—couldn’t accept that I wasn’t the man she married. Every day, it felt like she was trying to force me back into a box that was too small for who I was. It never stopped. Not until I died. And even then, she made sure the last thing I heard from her was that I’d ruined everything.”
Vivienne’s voice grew softer as she continued, almost as if speaking the words aloud made them feel a little less real. “I found something better after that. The family I built with my husband—far different from her. They accepted me, no questions asked. They were a good distraction from all the pain. But, deep down, I knew… It was never enough to fix what she’d done to me. It wasn’t the love I needed.” She let out a long breath, her shoulders sinking as she leaned back against the rocks.
Rava, watching closely, saw the rawness in Vivienne’s eyes, the way the memories of those painful days lingered like a weight. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” she said quietly, her voice soft but full of sincerity.
Vivienne gave her a fleeting, almost unreadable glance. “It’s fine. It was a long time ago. It still... it still stings sometimes, but I’ve moved on. Or at least, I’ve tried to.” Her eyes took on a faraway look, a distant shadow passing over her face, as though the weight of those lost years hung on her still. She let out a quiet sigh, and her gaze shifted toward the horizon, lost in a world that only she could see.
“The worst part, I think,” she continued, her voice softer now, as if speaking her deepest thoughts aloud made them all the more real, “is that I can barely remember the faces of my husband and children anymore. I don’t know how long I was gone, or what the passage of time has done to me. To my body... my habits. It’s like the more I try to hold onto them, the more they slip away.” She paused, lips pressing into a thin line. “And the thing that stings the most? I don’t even fear the day when I wake up and realize I’ve completely lost myself. I can be sad or angry about it, sure, but I don’t... I don’t fear it. I should. But I don’t.”
There was a vulnerability in her voice that Rava hadn’t heard before, a raw honesty that pierced through the usual bravado Vivienne wore like armor. The confession hung between them, heavy and unspoken, and Rava felt something stir inside her—empathy, maybe, or the recognition of a shared pain. But it wasn’t something she knew how to address. Instead, she simply nodded, her gaze steady.
“I don’t think you’ve lost yourself,” she said quietly, the words feeling inadequate, but she spoke them anyway. “I think… I think you’re still here.” She wasn’t sure if Vivienne even heard her, or if the words would make any difference, but in that moment, Rava felt like saying them was the only thing she could do. “I see it sometimes, when you speak of your past. I don’t think you’ve lost yourself at all. I don’t think you will either.”
Vivienne didn’t respond at first. The air between them thickened with the weight of unspoken words, and Rava could feel the tension coil tighter and tighter until, suddenly, the first tear fell.
It was unlike anything Rava had expected. The tear that traced down Vivienne’s cheek wasn’t made of water, but something thick, jet black—like the ichor that pulsed in Vivienne’s veins. It shimmered in the dim light, pooling for a heartbeat before evaporating into the air with a soft hiss, like oil in water.
Another followed. And another.
Each drop left its own trace of the dark, viscous ichor, flowing down Vivienne’s face like a silent testament to the pain she had kept locked away. Her shoulders shook now, a tremor that ran through her entire frame, something raw and unguarded that Vivienne could never allow to be seen. Yet here it was—her facade cracking in front of Rava, revealing the vulnerability she had hidden for so long.
Rava’s heart ached at the sight, and before she could stop herself, she moved. She crossed the space between them, stepping around the fire until she was on the opposite side, her warmth a steady presence in the stillness. Gently, she reached out, her hand brushing against Vivienne’s arm.
“Vivienne…” Her voice was a low whisper, hesitant, unsure how to break through the wall of sorrow that had built up inside her. But she didn’t pull away. Instead, she moved closer, sliding her arm around Vivienne’s trembling form, pulling her into the embrace she knew she needed, even if Vivienne didn’t ask for it.
Vivienne froze for a moment, her breath catching, and then she exhaled sharply, a sound so small and fragile it made Rava’s chest tighten.
“I don’t know how to keep pretending I’m okay,” Vivienne said, her voice barely above a whisper, strained and broken in a way Rava had never heard before. The ichor continued to fall from her eyes, as though her body couldn’t stop, even as she tried to hold herself together.
Rava’s grip tightened, and she held her there in silence, her hand stroking Vivienne’s back in gentle, reassuring motions. She didn’t need to say anything. In that moment, her presence, the simple act of holding her, was enough.
"I don’t know what’s left of me, Rava,” Vivienne continued, her words thick with the weight of her confession. “Everything’s gone—everything I knew. My old life, the people I loved, the ones who loved me back. I can barely even remember what I looked like before all of this.”
Her voice cracked, the ichor staining her skin as more tears fell. Rava swallowed hard, but she didn’t look away. She didn’t let go. She just kept holding Vivienne close, giving her the one thing she hadn’t let herself have in a long time—comfort.