Mother of Midnight

Chapter 132 – The Cannibal

Kivvy was lying in her bedroll, trying her best to fall asleep. The cool night air drifted into her tent, and she could hear the crackle of the fire outside, mixing with the sounds of the camp settling for the night. The usual stillness of the wilderness was peaceful, but tonight, it felt like her thoughts were louder than the world outside. Every little noise—every rustle of the fabric, every creak of the tent poles—felt like a distraction from the sleep she so desperately needed.

She rolled over for what felt like the hundredth time, squinting at the dark shape of the tent walls. “This is ridiculous,” she muttered under her breath. She’d been trying to sleep for hours, but it was no use. Her mind wouldn’t stop, and every time she thought she was close to drifting off, some random thought would pop up and keep her wide awake.

Just aas she finally started to think she was on the verge of sleep, a sound pierced the quiet. At first, it was soft, like a sniffle. Then, another. It sounded like someone choking on air, or worse—someone trying to stifle a sob, but not doing a very good job of it. Kivvy froze, wide-eyed, her body stiffening under the covers.

What in the name of everything terrifying was that?

She lay there, trying to pretend she hadn’t heard it. Maybe it was just a wild animal, or one of those weird forest creatures that liked to imitate human noises—yeah, that seemed plausible. But then, there was a distinct hiccup—definitely not animal-like.

It was Vivienne.

Kivvy’s eyes shot open, her heart doing a ridiculous dance in her chest. Her first thought was: No way. Vivienne. Crying? Like, sobbing? The woman who scared the pants off of pretty much everyone in the camp was now making noises that sounded like she was about to break down in front of a campfire? This was... well, it was absurd.

She could practically hear Vivienne’s pride shattering across the tent.

Kivvy buried her head in her pillow, trying to stifle the laugh that was bubbling up inside her. Vivienne. Crying. This is going to be a whole thing. She wondered if the ground was going to split open and swallow them all up, just to make the embarrassment go away. But no. The noises continued, a soft, hiccuping sound of a sob barely contained. Kivvy was torn between wanting to crawl into a hole and laugh her head off.

What did one even do in this situation? Comfort Vivienne? The idea seemed absurd. Vivienne was the kind of person who would probably mock you for crying, or something equally absurd. Well, not really. She was a vicious, man-eating monster who looked at everyone like they were food, and she teased everyone relentlessly, but she didn’t seem that mean.

Kivvy groaned and flopped back onto her bedroll. What the hell am I even thinking? She wasn’t sure what to do with this strange thought floating around her mind. It wasn’t Vivienne's tears that had her thinking—it was Rava. The way Rava looked at Vivienne when she thought no one was looking. It was... different. Kivvy had caught it a few times—glances that weren’t just curious, but something more. 

She had an inkling of what it was, but being a goblin from Aegis meant such notions had always felt distant, almost alien. Life under the thumb of her human masters had left little room for idle thoughts, let alone reflections on affection or whatever the strange tension between Rava and Vivienne might be. Every day had been the same back then—grueling work from dawn to dusk, with just enough time to shovel down some bland gruel and collapse into restless sleep. Feelings were luxuries she could never afford.

Kivvy snorted softly, shaking her head at the absurdity of it all. She didn’t know what to call the dynamic between Rava and Vivienne, but it was theirs, and she wanted no part of it. Still, she couldn’t shake the uncomfortable tug of curiosity. Maybe it was envy, or maybe it was just the novelty of seeing two people so unlike herself—two people who had space in their lives for something more than survival.

Yet, somewhere beneath the surface, another thought nagged at her. She hated admitting it, even to herself, but something about Vivienne stirred strange, confusing feelings she didn’t know how to name. Sometimes, it was when Vivienne flirted with her out of nowhere, throwing teasing words her way that left Kivvy flustered and unsure of how to respond. 

Or that time Vivienne went... strange, as if someone had swapped her out for a doting mother. She had scooped Kivvy up like she weighed nothing, planted a soft kiss on her forehead, and held her with a warmth that didn’t match the usual sharp, teasing Vivienne. It had left Kivvy utterly baffled, more confused than she’d ever been.

With a frustrated huff, she rolled onto her side, pulling the thin blanket up to her chin. Life here wasn’t perfect, but it was miles better than being worked to the bone under a human master, treated worse than a grazing quocha. At least now she had choices—whether to eat, whether to rest, whether to stay. Freedom tasted strange and unfamiliar, but she liked it well enough.

The muffled sound of quiet sobs drifted through the canvas walls of her tent, faint but persistent. Kivvy grimaced, trying to push the noise away. She’d never pegged Vivienne as the type to cry, and the sound of it made her uneasy. It wasn’t pity—not exactly—but something about hearing someone so powerful sound so fragile struck a nerve she didn’t want to acknowledge.

Forcing her eyes shut, she let out a slow breath and tried to will her thoughts away. Whatever mess was unraveling between Rava and Vivienne wasn’t her problem. She was tired, and the night was long. Eventually, the soft rhythm of the sobs faded from her awareness, replaced by the pull of sleep, as her breathing evened out and the world drifted away.

The group traveled northward for days, the landscape around them growing harsher and colder with each passing hour. Rolling fields gave way to frost-covered scrubland, and soon enough, the earth beneath their feet turned hard and unyielding. The air, once crisp and bracing, grew downright biting, forcing everyone—save for Vivienne and Renzia—to bundle up in layers of thick, worn cloaks and scarves. Even Rava, with her natural toughness, found herself grudgingly layering up as the chill seeped into her bones.

Vivienne, in her current form as a sleek black-furred wolf, pulled the wagon with an effortless stride, her claws digging into the frozen ground as though the cold were an afterthought. Her thick coat glistened with frost in places, but it did nothing to slow her down. She moved with that same unsettling grace, muscles rippling beneath her fur as the wagon creaked along behind her. The chill in the air meant nothing to her; if anything, she seemed more energized by the icy wind whipping through the barren landscape.

Ivor and Elira trudged along near the back of the group, managing the cold about as well as Rava, though in very different ways. Ivor, ever stoic, wore a thick, fur-lined cloak that billowed slightly with each step, his breath puffing out in slow, measured clouds. He didn’t speak much, simply plowing forward with the quiet determination of someone long accustomed to discomfort. Elira, on the other hand, seemed almost cheerful despite the freezing weather, her sharp eyes scanning the snowy landscape with a hint of excitement. She’d wrapped herself in layers of thick wool and fur, but the biting wind didn’t seem to bother her as much as it should have. Whether that was due to sheer stubbornness or some hidden trick of her artifice, no one could really say.

Meanwhile, Kivvy huddled under layers of mismatched blankets, seated atop the wagon with her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Her teeth chattered despite her best efforts, and she occasionally shot jealous glances at Vivienne’s unaffected form. “Of course the scary shape-shifting monster doesn’t feel the cold,” she muttered under her breath, pulling her scarf higher over her nose.

“You could try shifting into something warm,” Rava teased from beside her, trudging through the snow with relative ease thanks to her thick fur and layers of clothing. “Maybe a furry quocha.”

Kivvy snorted, her breath puffing visibly in the cold air. “Ha, ha. Very funny. Not all of us get to be naturally insulated, you know.”

Rava grinned, clearly enjoying Kivvy’s misery a little too much. “You’re the one who wanted to come along.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t think we’d be walking straight into an ice age!” Kivvy grumbled. She tugged her blanket tighter, as if that might somehow ward off the freezing wind. “And why can’t we light a fire on this stupid wagon?”

“Because we’d like the wagon to last more than one day,” Rava replied dryly. “Unless you want to ride in a pile of ash.”

The goblin glared at her but didn’t argue further. Instead, she turned her attention to Vivienne, who continued to pull the wagon in silence, seemingly lost in her own thoughts. Despite the cold and the tension in the air, there was something strangely calming about watching the wolf move. It was easy to forget, sometimes, that beneath all those monstrous forms, Vivienne was still… well, Vivienne. The same teasing, sharp-tongued person who somehow made Kivvy feel less like a tool and more like a person.

After a while, the biting wind began to die down as they entered a narrow gorge sheltered by rocky cliffs. “We’ll stop here for the night,” Rava called, her voice carrying over the crunch of snow beneath their feet. “Looks like decent cover from the wind.”

Vivienne came to a halt, shaking frost from her fur before she shifted back into her humanoid form, the change as smooth and unnerving as always. Black scales shimmered faintly in the dim light as she straightened, her long tail swishing behind her.

“Good call,” Vivienne said, her voice light and unconcerned despite the cold. She stretched her arms overhead, claws flexing, before turning to the others. “Let’s set up quickly. I don’t feel like listening to Kivvy complain all night about frostbite.”

“I wasn’t complaining,” Kivvy muttered, hopping down from the wagon with a blanket still draped around her shoulders. “I was… commenting.”

“Sure, sweetheart. Keep commenting, and I’ll start charging you for firewood,” Vivienne quipped, flashing her a grin, her lupine form making the expression slightly more unsettling than usual.

They arrived near the ruin by noon the next day. The wind seems to bite into the bone. As usual, they set up camp with it just in sight, since they always needed the rest after such an incursion afterwards.

They arrived near the ruin by noon the next day, the crumbling silhouette of ancient stone towers rising like jagged teeth against the bleak, overcast sky. The wind, sharper and colder than before, seemed to cut straight to the bone, its relentless howl carrying with it an ominous chill. Snowflakes swirled in erratic patterns, dusting the already frost-hardened ground with a thin white sheet that crunched beneath their boots.

Despite the promise of shelter within the ruin, they chose—as they always did—to set up camp at a safe distance. Even from this range, the ruin exuded an unsettling atmosphere. The air felt heavier here, tinged with something unseen but palpable. It was the kind of place where shadows seemed to stretch just a little too far, and the silence between the gusts of wind carried a weight that pressed down on the senses.

“Standard practice,” Ivor muttered as he unloaded their supplies. “We’ll need to rest up before heading in. These things always take a toll.”

“And after we get back out too,” Rava added, her breath fogging the air as she helped secure the tent lines against the persistent wind. “Last thing we need is to go in exhausted and come out worse for wear.”

Vivienne, still in her wolf form, padded quietly around the perimeter of the camp, her sharp eyes scanning the ruin in the distance. Even now, her large frame radiated an effortless grace, black fur bristling slightly in response to the cold. She didn’t say anything, but her ears swiveled at the faintest sound carried by the wind, always alert.

Elira busied herself gathering small bundles of kindling they had brought along, striking flint against steel to coax a fire into being. The flickering flames offered a small comfort against the encroaching chill, though it did little to dispel the uneasy feeling that had settled over the group.

“I don’t like it,” Kivvy muttered, pulling her blanket tighter around her shoulders as she sat near the fire. “Feels… wrong.”

“It always feels wrong near places like this,” Rava replied, though there was no dismissiveness in her tone. She crouched beside the goblin and adjusted her own cloak, eyes fixed on the distant ruin. “Ruins this old hold memories. Bad ones. Don’t dwell on it too much.”

Despite Rava’s attempt at reassurance, the mood remained tense. Everyone knew that what lay ahead wouldn’t be easy. Ruins like these—forgotten relics from ancient times—had a reputation for being dangerous. They were often filled with crumbling architecture, lingering artifice, and, sometimes, things far worse than mere traps or machines.

“Let’s rest while we can,” Ivor suggested, tossing another log onto the fire. “We’ll go in tomorrow morning, after a good night’s sleep. No sense rushing in half-frozen and tired.”

There was no argument. They all knew the value of being prepared—both physically and mentally. The ruin wasn’t going anywhere, and charging in unready would be suicide.

As the fire crackled and the camp took shape around it, a strange quiet fell over the group, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Beyond the firelight, the ruin loomed like a slumbering giant, its weathered walls holding secrets that had lain undisturbed for who knew how long.

Tomorrow, they would face whatever waited within. But for now, all they could do was rest and gather their strength for the ordeal ahead.

By noon the next day, they arrived near the ruin—a looming, broken structure half-buried beneath frost and tangled vines, with jagged remnants of walls reaching into the grey sky. The wind here was harsher, slicing through their clothes and gnawing at exposed skin, as if carrying a warning from the ancient stones ahead.

The group wasted no time. Setting up camp was routine by now, and everyone fell into their usual roles. Rava and Ivor pitched the tents, each movement deliberate and practiced, while Elira prepared their meager supplies for a quick meal. Vivienne, still in her sleek wolf form, prowled around the site, her sharp eyes constantly scanning the horizon. The wagon creaked softly behind her as it settled into place.

“We’ll rest for a bit, eat something, then head in,” Rava said, her breath clouding in the cold air as she pulled her cloak tighter. “It’s better to go in after we’ve warmed up and gotten a bit of strength back.”

“Agreed.” Ivor crouched near the wagon, rummaging through one of their supply crates. “But we shouldn’t linger too long. This wind will only get worse.”

Kivvy didn’t need telling twice. She huddled close to the fire Elira managed to coax into life, wrapping herself in a thick blanket. “I’d like to get this over with sooner rather than later,” she muttered, casting a wary glance toward the ruin. “This place gives me the creeps.”

“That’s what ruins do.” Elira’s voice was calm as she stirred the contents of a small pot hanging over the fire. “But better to feel uneasy now than to walk in overconfident and get yourself killed.”

Vivienne padded closer, her fur glinting with frost in the sunlight. She shifted back to her usual form in a smooth, unsettling motion—black-furred limbs shrinking, her sleek wolf frame giving way to her more familiar figure. She stretched her clawed fingers and dusted frost from her shoulders before casually leaning against the wagon. “Relax, sweetheart,” she said with a smirk toward Kivvy. “We’ll be in and out before you know it.”

Rava shot Vivienne a sharp look. “Luck’s a fickle huntress. Best not call her attention.”

“Oh, I like that one,” Vivienne replied, lips curling into a smirk.

With camp set and plenty of daylight left, the four gathered their supplies and began the trek toward the distant ruin. The air was sharp with cold, and the wind sliced across the barren landscape, carrying a biting chill that clung to every breath. Snow crunched beneath their boots, the only sound in the otherwise silent expanse.

“No tracks,” Rava muttered, her eyes scanning the ground ahead. “No sign of anyone coming or going in ages.”

“Or maybe the snow’s fresh,” Ivor offered, glancing at the sky. “Could’ve covered any old tracks.”

“Could’ve,” Rava admitted, though her expression remained wary, her eyes flicking across the horizon as though expecting something to emerge from the snow at any moment. “Still, keep your eyes open. Just because we don’t see anyone doesn’t mean no one’s here.”

“Oh, I feel it here,” Vivienne said suddenly, her tone shifting, eyes widening ever so slightly as she scanned the distant ruin.

Rava stiffened, turning toward her with a wary glance. “Feel what?”

“The pull,” Vivienne murmured, her voice taking on an almost dreamy quality. She tilted her head, as if listening to something only she could hear. “I can almost hear the song.” A faint hum escaped her lips, like a half-formed melody riding on the cold wind.

“Maybe you should stay back,” Rava said quickly, a hard edge creeping into her voice. “I really don’t want to go through that all over again.” The memory of the last time Vivienne got caught up in something similar was still fresh—too fresh.

Vivienne waved her off dismissively, flashing a smirk that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I don’t think it will be as much of a problem this time.”

Rava’s gaze didn’t waver, suspicion mingling with concern. “That doesn’t fill me with confidence.” She muttered but didn’t argue further.

While the previous ruins they had visited still bore some semblance of their former structure—crumbling walls and arches standing defiantly against the passage of time—this one was something entirely different. The frigid expanse of snowy terrain offered little more than scattered fragments of stone, half-buried in frost, as if nature itself had tried to erase all evidence of what once stood here. Only after a long, meticulous search did they finally come across what could scarcely be called an entrance: a small cave, hidden beneath an overhang of ice, with jagged rocks framing its narrow mouth.

The group moved cautiously into the cave, their footsteps muffled by the thick layer of snow. The walls around them glimmered faintly in the dim light filtering through the entrance, ice crystals reflecting back a muted glow. The air inside was bitterly cold, carrying an almost oppressive stillness that seemed to press down on them as they went deeper. Just a few steps in, the floor began to slope downward sharply, leading to a set of ancient stone stairs carved directly into the rock. These stairs descended further than any of them had anticipated, winding into the depths beneath the surface.

As they descended, the temperature seemed to drop even further, biting through their layered clothing and stinging exposed skin. The air grew heavy, thick with the faint hum of residual aether—an uncomfortable, almost static-like sensation that prickled at their senses. Faint patterns could be seen etched into the walls beside the stairs, obscured by frost and centuries of wear. Some looked like simple runes, while others resembled intricate depictions of beasts or twisted shapes that defied immediate recognition.

The stairs ended abruptly in a wide stone chamber, its ceiling low enough to make even the shorter members of the group feel slightly claustrophobic. Piles of broken stone and rubble littered the floor, making the footing uneven and treacherous. Narrow corridors branched out in multiple directions, forming an eerie, maze-like structure that stretched beyond the range of their vision. The entire place felt wrong, as if it had been deliberately designed to disorient anyone who entered.

As they ventured further into the ruin, the faint hum of aether grew more pronounced, accompanied by a strange, rhythmic pulse that seemed to echo from deep within the walls. It wasn’t long before they encountered their first signs of life—if the creatures here could even be called that. Small, twisted aetherbeasts skittered along the edges of the corridors, their forms barely more than shadows given shape. They moved unnaturally, their bodies flickering in and out of solidity, as though they were tethered to this plane only by the faint strands of aether that surrounded them.

The beasts weren’t particularly large, but there was something deeply unsettling about them. Their eyes glowed faintly, emitting an otherworldly light that cut through the gloom. One of them leapt out from a crevice, its limbs elongating unnaturally mid-air as it tried to latch onto Vivienne. She reacted instantly, her claws flashing out in a precise arc, shredding the creature before it could reach her. Instead of falling lifeless to the ground, the beast dissolved into a mist of aether, its remains quickly absorbed by the ruin itself, much to her annoyance.

More of the creatures began to appear as they pressed on, emerging from cracks in the stone or forming out of thin air where the aether gathered thickest. They weren’t particularly powerful, but they were relentless, and their numbers made the group’s progress slow and tense. Every corner, every new corridor felt like a potential ambush, keeping them on constant edge.

Eventually, the tide of weak, ghost-like aetherbeasts began to lessen in numbers, their ethereal forms dissipating into the shadows from which they came. The corridor ahead remained eerily silent, their brief skirmishes fading into the gloom. Vivienne's sharp claws left dark gouges in the stone walls as she traced their path, ensuring they didn’t double back. Her movements were purposeful, almost mechanical, as if her senses were heightened by the pulsating energy of the ruins themselves.

The winding, maze-like passages twisted and turned in impossible ways, leaving the group disoriented, but Vivienne’s confidence remained steady. Her claws continued to carve small marks along the walls, each a silent reminder of their progress, until something stirred in the air. An unfamiliar, unsettling scent filled the space—something deep and wrong.

Vivienne paused, her posture shifting. Her head tilted slightly, as though listening to a sound only she could hear. Then, the thing emerged from the shadows—a hulking, grotesque shape. It was barely the size of a large dog, yet there was no mistaking it for anything but a nightmare. It seemed out of place, even among the bizarre aetherbeasts. Its limbs were distorted, tendrils flicking in every direction, its body a writhing mass of flickering, translucent energy.

Her gaze narrowed as the creature flinched, its movements panicked. Despite its monstrous appearance, it was clearly more afraid than it was threatening. It tried to scuttle away, but its own disjointed limbs betrayed it, leaving it unable to flee with any sort of grace.

For a brief, flickering moment, Vivienne felt a strange pull—a hunger, primal and unrelenting. She knew she was better than this thing. Smarter, stronger, more dangerous. Yet something deep within her stirred, some base instinct demanding satisfaction. The idea of devouring the creature crossed her mind, and she felt the urge coiling inside her, its pull growing stronger.

Before anyone could react, she pounced, moving faster than anyone could anticipate. Her mouth split open, an impossibly wide gash in her face, revealing rows of needle-like teeth. She tore into the creature with terrifying precision, each bite shattering the aetherbeast’s body into nothingness. A semi-transparent chunk came away easily, then another, and another, until the creature was reduced to a pile of fragments.

For a moment, the remains of the creature hung in the air, dissipating like smoke. Even the fragmented memories it left behind were weak, inconsequential, nothing but a blur. Vivienne swallowed the last remnants, her gaze shifting back to her companions.

They stood there, frozen in place, the looks on their faces a mixture of concern, disbelief, and something else that Vivienne couldn’t quite read. Her expression softened, a sharp grin tugging at the corners of her lips.

“Oops!” she said cheerfully, her voice light despite the unsettling nature of the moment. “I guess I am a cannibal now!”