Mother of Midnight

Chapter 140 – Magicbabble

Tarric raised an eyebrow at Kivvy’s comment but couldn’t help the faint smirk that tugged at his lips. “I’ll try not to be too offended by that.”

Kivvy leaned on her knees, giving him an exaggerated once-over, her sharp green eyes gleaming with something between mischief and genuine interest. “Nah, don’t be offended. I like what I see. Compact’s good. Keeps things… efficient.”

Vivienne shot her a warning look but didn’t intervene—yet. “Kivvy…”

“What?” Kivvy grinned, unabashed. “I’m just saying, if we’ve been chasing him all this time, I at least deserve to have a little fun getting to know the guy.”

Tarric rubbed the back of his neck, clearly a little uncomfortable but more amused than anything else. “Uh… thanks? I think.”

“Oh, don’t worry, handsome,” Kivvy continued, unabated. “I’m harmless. Unless you’re trying to steal my food.”

“Good to know,” Tarric muttered, clearly unsure whether to laugh or retreat.

Vivienne placed Rava gently into her tent near the fire pit, tucking her in with the care one might reserve for a fragile treasure. The chill of the evening had crept into the camp, but the fire’s steady crackle provided a warm counterpoint. Ensuring that the blankets were securely wrapped around the unconscious warrior, Vivienne gave a satisfied nod before slipping outside, letting the tent flap fall closed behind her.

“So,” she began, brushing a few stray strands of hair from her face as she approached the fire, “as for the other two, my dear little friend, they turned out to be champions of Praxus disguised as associates of Tarric!”

Kivvy, who had just taken another bite of her meat, froze mid-chew, her wide goblin eyes blinking in stunned disbelief. “I’m sorry, what?” she said through a mouthful before hastily swallowing.

“Yep!” Vivienne replied with a cheerful grin, as though relaying an amusing anecdote rather than an encounter with deadly agents of a god. “One got away and the other… very much did not.” Her grin widened slightly at the memory of the battle.

Kivvy’s expression remained incredulous, her brows drawing together. “You’re telling me that Praxus sent champions after you?”

“Sent champions after us, darling. We’re a team now.” Vivienne’s tone was breezy, but there was a flicker of something sharper beneath it—an acknowledgement of the gravity of what had happened. “But yes, Praxus is apparently taking quite an interest in us. I do wonder what happened to the original Elira and Ivor.”

“Ah.” Tarric, who had been standing awkwardly nearby, lowered himself onto a log by the fire with a groan of exhaustion. He sat there for a moment, leaning on his staff as though even sitting required effort. “I do too. I hope they are safe. They make the most charming duo.”

They sat in silence for a while before Tarric spoke up again. “I was… curious. Why did you eat her?”

Vivienne turned her head toward him, black eyes gleaming with a hint of mischief in the firelight. “Because I was hungry? Why else?”

Tarric blinked at her, his expression shifting from confusion to wary realization. His mouth opened slightly, as if he wanted to question further, but no words came out. Meanwhile, Kivvy stared at Vivienne with an open-mouthed expression of her own, as though she was still processing what had just been said.

“Her flesh was delightful. I’ve never eaten such rich aether before!” Said Vivienne with a satisfied look. “I want to eat another champion.”

“Oh! You’re the nothingness that’s been following my adorable little sister around.” Said Tarric. “You know you are kind of terrifying, right?”

Vivienne grinned, her voice tinged with a dark satisfaction. "Good. I can eat the fear too. Get the aether from my kills, then get the aether from telling people about them. It’s exceptionally efficient." Her expression shifted, her playful smirk melting into something more contemplative. “Alright, let’s shift gears for a second. I have a question for you. What kinds of predators do you know? Like, real hunters—animals that track and kill for survival.”

Tarric scratched at his chin for a moment, then replied, “A Burna. They hunt in packs. Only eat meat. Very territorial, vicious.”

Vivienne nodded, tapping her fingers rhythmically against her arm as she considered his words. “Right. So, do you think the Burna’s evil for hunting their prey? Their prey probably doesn’t feel very good about being hunted.” she asked. Her voice was smooth, steady, but her eyes were keen, studying him carefully. “But It’s just instinct. They see food, and they take it. If they don’t they die.”

Tarric’s brows furrowed slightly as he weighed her question. “I suppose not. It’s... nature, isn’t it?”

"Exactly," Vivienne replied with a small smile, as if she’d won some unspoken argument. She leaned back a little, folding her arms over her chest. "It’s natural. It’s survival. It’s not evil. They do what they need to do, and that’s it."

Tarric nodded slowly, still trying to grasp where this was going. “Right, okay. But, uh... what does that have to do with—”

Vivienne cut him off with a quick, almost playful wave of her hand. “Ah, but that’s just it, sweetheart. You see, I can speak to my food.” Her eyes glittered as she looked at them both, her voice lowering a notch, as if sharing a secret. “I can choose it. I can deceive it, I can alleviate its concerns. But I don’t just go around picking off the easiest targets. I’m a lot more selective. I could wipe out hundreds in Serkoth over weeks, simply avoid authorities until I needed to move on, but I don’t”

Kivvy shifted uncomfortably, glancing between Tarric and Vivienne, her fingers drumming nervously on her knee.

Vivienne didn’t seem to notice. She continued, the casual tone in her voice a stark contrast to the weight of her words. “I don’t kill indiscriminately. Because, you know, I’ve got people I care about.” She glanced briefly at Rava’s unconscious form in the corner, her expression softening just a little. “I protect what’s mine.”

Her gaze returned to Tarric, piercing and intense. “So, I hunt and I eat the enemies of the people I care about. And before you get all judgmental about it, think about it this way: It’s not the killing part that’s so unnerving. It’s just the eating, right?” She gave a shrug as if to dismiss their unease.

Kivvy hesitated before speaking, her voice low but firm. “You’re saying it’s not evil?”

Vivienne’s smile returned, though it had a sharp edge to it. “Exactly. I’m a predator. But I’m no different than any other. It’s about survival and about protecting what’s mine at the same time.”

Kivvy shifted uncomfortably again, clearly still unsettled, but she didn’t speak. Tarric cleared his throat, as if trying to process what he’d just heard. “I... I understand survival. But eating people, Vivienne? That’s a lot to justify.”

Vivienne’s eyes softened, almost as if she were considering his words carefully. “You don’t have to understand it. You don’t have to like it. Just... understand that I’m not some savage. I’m choosing. I’m always choosing.”

There was a long silence before she finally spoke again, her voice softer now. “And I’m not evil for it, nor do I think I am particularly good either.”

Tarric’s lips pressed into a thin line, and he sighed. “I’m not sure if I can agree with you, Vivienne, but I... I hear you.”

Vivienne nodded, as though she had expected no less. “Good. I don’t expect you to agree, but I do expect you to understand. And if you can’t, well...” She trailed off with a casual shrug, her voice taking on that signature edge of finality that had always been a part of her. “It’s just how it is.”

Tarric studied her for a long moment, his lips pressed together in thought. He could tell there was more beneath the surface, more than she was letting on, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He had learned by now not to take everything at face value with Vivienne. There was always something deeper, something layered beneath the words.

“Indeed.” He finally said, breaking the tension with a deep breath. “Well, that was a morbid discussion!” he chuckled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “So, I gotta ask, what are you doing with Rava? Actually, with all of you... The prophecy says so much, but you’re all strangers to me. Or I suppose I’m the stranger here. It can be both!”

Vivienne chuckled, her voice warm but tinged with amusement. “I met Rava a few months ago, inside some fallen ruins. She was… well, she wasn’t in the best shape. I helped her out of there, got her back to Serkoth, and decided to stick around for a while. And here I am, for better or worse.”

Tarric, ever the gentleman, inclined his head respectfully. “Well, thank you for saving my little sister.”

Vivienne's lips curled into a half-smile, her dark eyes glinting as she glanced toward Kivvy. “It’s funny, hearing you call her that when she’s nearly two heads taller than you.”

Kivvy smirked, leaning back on her heels. “Yeah, not to mention she can probably bench press you. Wouldn’t exactly call that ‘little sister’ material, but sure.”

Vivienne's expression shifted into one of quiet amusement, as though she were savoring the banter. “After hearing Rava talk you up so much, I did expect you to be... less in line with us vertically challenged folks, and more in line with that freakish family of yours,” she said, her voice light but teasing.

Tarric’s face shifted into a grin, and he laughed—an easy, unguarded sound that rang out like a bell. “I suppose so! Mother told me I took almost everything from my father except my spirit!”

Vivienne raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Is that so? An excitable man, like your father?”

Tarric’s grin faded slightly, a shadow crossing his features as he scratched the back of his head. “Well… actually, I don’t really know much about my father. None of us do, really.”

Vivienne tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. “What do you mean? Don’t you all have stories about him?”

Tarric looked away briefly, his gaze distant, as if lost in thought. “No. We all have different fathers. Each of us were raised by Mother, and she... well, she didn’t exactly encourage us to ask about them. She was always very protective of her past, you could say.”

Kivvy, sensing the shift in the conversation, leaned in with a teasing smirk. “So no family reunions, huh? Just Mother running the show.”

Tarric gave a half-hearted laugh, though there was a slight bitterness to it. “Pretty much. Each of us got a different father, but they were only chosen for their blood. We were all raised to be independent, to do what we needed to survive. But there was never much mention of the fathers—at least, not from Mother. I guess she thought it was best to let us figure things out for ourselves.”

Vivienne’s gaze softened, a touch of sympathy in her voice. “That’s… rough. But I suppose it’s how it worked. You had each other, right?”

“Yeah,” Tarric nodded, his voice a little quieter now. “We had each other. And honestly, that’s all we really needed growing up. We made do with what we had.”

Vivienne nodded in understanding, her tone lightening. “Well, sounds like you’ve turned out just fine despite it all.”

Tarric gave her a sheepish grin, a little of the weight lifting from his shoulders. “I guess. I’ve had to make my own way, that’s for sure.”

Kivvy flashed him a teasing grin, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, looks like you’re doing just fine after all. No mystery father, but hey, at least you’re not short on character.”

Tarric’s eyes widened in mock disbelief, then he let out a hearty laugh, slapping his knee. “Oh, I see what you did there! Ha! Nice one!” But his smile faltered as a chill crept over him. “All this snow is not doing me any favors, though! You don’t happen to have warding rods on hand, do you?”

Vivienne gave him a slow nod, the corners of her mouth curling up in a faint smirk.

Tarric rubbed his hands together and shivered again. “Perfect. Think you could fetch them for me? Still feeling a little weak after everything.”

Without missing a beat, Vivienne stood up, her movements smooth and purposeful. She walked over to the wagon, her tail flicking once as she rummaged around in the back. The wind howled outside, but she made quick work of finding the rods. She returned to him shortly after, the sleek rods in her hands, each one humming with latent power.

She handed them over to Tarric, her gaze sharp. “Here you go. Just what you need?”

Tarric nodded gratefully, taking the rods from her and feeling the cool, solid weight of the energy-storing instruments in his grip. He didn’t waste any time testing their balance, his fingers dancing lightly over the carvings along the rods. His eyes narrowed with focus as the soft hum of the rods vibrated through his palms.

“That’s the one,” he muttered to himself. “Now, this is going to take a little more than just warming up the place.”

Vivienne raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “What are you planning to do with those?”

Tarric didn’t answer immediately, his gaze locked on the rods as he channeled the aether into them, his grip steady and sure. The air around him seemed to ripple, subtle at first, then more pronounced as threads of energy coiled and danced through the atmosphere. A palpable tension began to fill the camp, thick and humming with raw power, each breath carrying a faint tingle of aether.

The rods resting on the ground trembled before rising slowly into the air, hovering for a brief moment as though testing the pull of gravity. Then, with a sudden burst of force, they launched outward in precise arcs, embedding themselves firmly into the frozen ground at carefully measured points around the perimeter. The faint crunch of snow beneath them was the only sound that broke the heavy stillness.

Vivienne’s eyes narrowed slightly as she felt a massive rush of aether pulse outward, like an unseen wave washing over her. Reflexively, her long, black tongue flicked out, tasting the air as it swirled with energy. It was potent, more concentrated than what she’d ever felt from Rava’s wards. This was something else entirely—something far more refined.

Without hesitation, Tarric began to chant under his breath. His words were low and rhythmic, spoken in a tongue that seemed to resonate with the energy around him. Vivienne’s sharp eyes caught the shimmering threads of aether in the air, winding their way toward each rod. She watched with interest as the aether coalesced, forming glowing halos around the rods.

Normally, Rava had to touch each rod directly to channel her power into them, but an Exomancer didn’t seem to need that physical connection. Tarric’s mastery over aether allowed him to manipulate it at a distance, guiding it with precision and intent. The aether bent to his will, responding as though it recognized his authority over it.

And just like that, it was over. What normally took Rava the better part of an hour—careful preparation, deliberate pacing, and focused exertion—had been completed by Tarric in mere minutes. There was no hesitation in his movements, no signs of strain. Where Rava’s process was methodical and slow, his was swift and efficient, like a craftsman long practiced in his art.

Vivienne flicked her tongue again, tasting the aether-rich air. It was cleaner now, more stable, as though the chaotic energy of the environment had been tamed. The wards glowed faintly where they had embedded themselves in the ground, creating an invisible barrier that pulsed with warmth and pushed back the cold. Already, the biting chill of the wind had vanished, replaced by a cozy, steadily growing heat. The snow inside the perimeter began to melt, forming small, shimmering pools of water on the ground.

Kivvy whistled low, clearly impressed. “Okay, I’m gonna say it. That was... pretty amazing. Rava’s wards are good, but this? This feels like we’re sitting inside a warm cabin.”

Tarric smiled faintly, brushing off his hands as he rose to his feet. “I’m not here to show anyone up, just making sure we’re comfortable. After all, good company deserves a good fire and a good ward.” His eyes flicked toward Vivienne, a subtle curiosity in his gaze. “Though I have to admit, working this close to someone like you was… interesting.”

Vivienne raised a brow, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Interesting how?”

Tarric gestured vaguely at her, a knowing glint in his eyes. “Aether reacts differently around you. You seem to pull it in like it’s nothing. It’s… unique. Setting up the matrix for the ward nearly collapsed because of you!”

“I’m… sorry?” questioned Vivienne, unsure if she should be offended or flattered.

“No, it’s fascinating!” said Tarric excitedly, stepping closer, his hands already beginning to sketch shapes in the air as though he couldn’t contain the explanation brimming in his mind. “Think of the warding structure as a lattice—normally, I anchor the rods at equidistant points and channel the aether through a stable harmonic pattern. Standard resonance principles apply. But you, you’re like a walking disruptor field! The ambient aether near you gets pulled into this… sink, and it creates an aether cascade with more larger scale spells. If I hadn’t reinforced the anchor nodes with dynamic aetherium threading, the whole thing would’ve unraveled into raw entropic feedback.”

Vivienne blinked, her smirk replaced by a bemused expression. “Uh-huh. Yeah, that totally makes sense.”

“It’s like she’s a mobile attractor,” Kivvy chimed in, nodding thoughtfully. “You know, like those old goblin core siphons they used to stabilize blast engines?”

“Exactly!” Tarric pointed at her with an approving grin. “Except more complex, because Vivienne isn’t stabilizing anything—she’s pulling in raw aether without a containment field. It’s a miracle the ward didn’t destabilize entirely, though I suspect it has something to do with her natural aetheric signature acting as a kind of pseudo-limiter.”

Vivienne narrowed her eyes slightly, her tail flicking behind her with irritation. “Okay, I caught ‘walking disruptor’ and ‘miracle.’ The rest is just you making noises at me.”

Tarric laughed, a rich, hearty sound. “I forget not everyone studied exomancy for seven and a half decades. Basically, being near you makes exomancy... complicated. More powerful, but harder to control.”

Vivienne folded her arms, her smirk returning. “So, what you’re saying is I’m special?”

Tarric’s eyes gleamed. “Oh, without a doubt. There’s a reason Rava wanted you around.”

“Maybe because I’m charming?”

“Sure, let’s go with that,” Tarric teased before glancing at Kivvy. “You seem to know a bit about aether theory.”

Kivvy shrugged, still grinning with a mix of pride and amusement. “I tinker with stuff. We goblins don’t get far without knowing at least the basics of theory when it comes to artifice. We aren’t the most powerful exomancers or endomancers, but we make up for it with precision. Theory’s important for us—knowing how aether flows, how to stabilize it, how to keep it from blowing up in your face.”

Tarric nodded, clearly impressed. “Makes sense. Artifice is about balancing complexity with control. Aether reacts differently depending on the crafter, and you lot work with some of the most volatile stuff around.”

Kivvy tilted her head, her grin widening. “Exactly! When your contraptions could either light up a room or leave a crater, you learn fast.”

Tarric turned to Vivienne, his expression thoughtful. “Speaking of different reactions, I’ve been curious about something. I saw you shapeshift, and you summoned those beautiful crystal beasts earlier. But how do you do it without forming a nexus or using chants? There’s no visible preparation, no spellforms, nothing.”

Vivienne shrugged nonchalantly, her long black tongue flicking out briefly as if to taste the air. “It’s all instinctual.”

“Instinctual?” Tarric raised a brow, stepping closer. “You’re telling me you manipulate raw aether without any deliberate structure or focus points? Just… instinct?”

“Yep.” Vivienne leaned back slightly, arms crossed, her smirk growing. “I don’t exactly know how it works, and honestly, I don’t care to. It just happens. I will it, and the aether does what I want.”

Tarric’s eyes gleamed with fascination. He began pacing, one hand rubbing his chin as he muttered half to himself, half aloud. “That’s remarkable. No predefined matrix, no harmonics to stabilize flow… A direct link between will and manifestation. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re bypassing the typical aetheric layering altogether. That would explain the flux distortions I noticed earlier—”

Vivienne raised a hand, cutting him off with an exaggerated sigh. “Nerd alert. You’re doing that thing again.”

Kivvy chuckled, clearly enjoying the exchange. “What he’s saying, Viv, is that what you do shouldn’t be possible without some kind of structure. It’s like... trying to build a house without any tools or materials but still ending up with a mansion.”

Vivienne raised a brow, her smirk quirking as she watched Tarric’s excitement build. “Maybe it’s because I’m an aetherbeast?” she suggested, her tone casual, as though discussing something as mundane as the weather.

Tarric’s eyes widened, glinting with a spark of unrestrained wonder. He took a step closer, as if proximity would somehow help him understand her better. “Well, that would explain several theories I had,” he admitted, voice quickening with enthusiasm, “but it raises so many more questions! How are you intelligent? Are other aetherbeasts intelligent? Could we potentially open a dialogue with them? Have you ever met others like yourself?”

Kivvy snorted, folding her arms as she leaned against the wagon. “Slow down there, professor. She just said maybe—doesn’t mean she’s got all the answers.”

Tarric shot her an exasperated look. “It’s still a viable hypothesis! If she’s some kind of advanced aetherbeast, then that changes everything we know about how they function. Typically, aetherbeasts are driven by instinct and hunger—they don’t reason, they don’t communicate beyond the most basic forms of territorial behavior.”

“Guess I’m just special,” Vivienne said with a playful shrug. “Though I wouldn’t hold out hope for any diplomatic breakthroughs. Most of the ones I’ve run into weren’t exactly the talking type.”

Tarric began pacing again, clearly lost in thought. “But what if that’s because they lack a sufficient aetheric framework for advanced cognition? If you’re different, it could mean something altered your core structure. Maybe your nexus—if you even have one—functions like a fully attuned conduit rather than a raw accumulator. That might explain why you can harness and shape aether so freely without forming deliberate matrices. It’s like—”

Vivienne held up a hand, cutting him off with an amused sigh. “You’re doing it again. Magicbabble.”

Kivvy laughed. “Careful, Tarric. Her eyes are starting to glaze over.”

Tarric blinked, realizing he’d lost his audience, but his grin didn’t fade. “Right, sorry. I get carried away. It’s not every day I meet someone—or something—that completely rewrites what we thought we knew about basic concepts.”

“Well, you’re lucky I’m patient,” Vivienne said, giving him a teasing look. “Though if you keep talking in circles, I might summon something to bite you, just to see if you can ward that too.”

Kivvy elbowed her lightly. “Hey, give him a break. You’re basically a walking research project. If I had a brain as big as his, I’d probably be doing the same thing.”

Tarric crossed his arms, tilting his head thoughtfully, his mind clearly racing. “Still… if you are an aetherbeast, that opens up the possibility that others could evolve in similar ways. It might not be common, but if we could replicate the process—or at least understand it—we could learn to coexist with them, maybe even harness their abilities safely.”

Vivienne’s expression shifted, her eyes narrowing slightly. Her smirk faded into something colder, sharper. “That sounds dangerously close to what the Sovereignty is doing,” she said, her voice low, measured. “And while I do think I’m amazing—one of a kind, really—I’m pretty sure more than one of me would be a bad idea for everyone.”

Kivvy’s grin twitched, but she remained quiet, sensing the shift in tone. Tarric, however, didn’t back down. He tilted his head further, clearly fascinated but now more cautious. “I didn’t mean anything like that. I’m talking about understanding, not control. Learning how something works doesn’t mean trying to turn it into a weapon.”

Vivienne let out a breath, visibly relaxing a fraction. “Maybe. But history doesn’t exactly paint a pretty picture of what people do with that kind of knowledge, does it?”

“Point taken,” Tarric said with a faint nod. He hesitated, then asked, “But if you don’t mind me asking… how did you become this? I’ve never heard of a transformation like yours before.”

Vivienne glanced at the ground, absently digging a clawed toe into the dirt before answering. “To answer at least one or two of your questions… I was human, once. My soul was taken and placed into this body by a god. That’s the short version.”

Tarric’s eyes widened, his curiosity now mingled with awe. “A god… reshaped you entirely? That explains the sheer amount of aether you can draw on. If your body was forged by divine hands, it’s no wonder you’re unlike anything I’ve ever encountered.”

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t recommend it,” Vivienne said with a sardonic smile. “It’s not exactly a ‘try this at home’ kind of thing.”

Kivvy chimed in, her grin back in full force. “Bet that’s the Sovereignty’s next plan—soul-swapping experiments. You’d be the blueprint for their nightmare army.”

Vivienne gave a derisive snort. “Let them try. I’m not exactly easy to copy.”

Tarric, undeterred, pressed on. “You said your soul was moved. That implies your essence—your core self—was preserved. That’s what makes this so fascinating. Normally, when aetherbeasts form, they’re nothing but instinct given shape by raw aether. But you… you retained your mind, your will. That means your soul must have undergone a complete transmutation while retaining its original structure.”

Vivienne hummed thoughtfully, a low, rumbling sound that seemed to resonate in her chest. “In a way. I’m certainly… changed. I’ve got new instincts, new appetites, and let’s just say some of my ethics aren’t quite the same as when I was human. I still think I’m me at my core, but…” She trailed off, her black eyes narrowing slightly as she searched for the right words. “Without so many inhibitions. Though I do have… some worries.”

“Worries?” Tarric leaned in, his curiosity piqued. “Like what?”

Vivienne flicked her long, black tongue out, tasting the air reflexively as she gathered her thoughts. “Fragments of memories,” she said at last. “They rush into me whenever I devour an aetherbeast. It’s annoying—like echoes of lives I’ve never lived trying to shove their way into my head.”

Tarric straightened, clearly intrigued. “Memories?” he asked, his tone more serious now.

“Yeah,” Vivienne replied, crossing her arms. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and I’m pretty sure aetherbeasts aren’t just made of pure aether. They’re more like… a mix of raw aether and fragments of memories or souls, coalescing in places where the ambient aether is thick. It’s the only explanation that makes sense, given what I experience after every meal.”

Tarric’s brows knit together, his mind already dissecting her words. “That… makes a disturbing amount of sense. We know that aether has an affinity for thought and emotion—it can be shaped by willpower alone. So if enough ambient aether gathers around a place that’s steeped in powerful emotions or memories…” He paused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “It could create something semi-conscious. An aetherbeast born from fragmented thoughts and experiences.”

Kivvy stared at Vivienne. “Maybe that’s why you acted weird before.”

Vivienne blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Weird how? What are you talking about?”

Kivvy gave her an incredulous look, hands on her hips. “You seriously don’t remember? You got all… soft and concerned for a minute. Like, you actually sounded like you cared about me, without the usual snark or teasing.”

Vivienne frowned, her lips pulling into a slight pout as she tried to recall the moment. “Nope. Not ringing any bells.” She glanced at Tarric, as though expecting him to offer an explanation.

Tarric stroked his chin thoughtfully, his curiosity piqued. “That’s fascinating… You said fragments of memories affect you when you absorb aetherbeasts, right? If that’s true, maybe one of those fragments briefly asserted itself. It could have been a lingering trace of someone who had strong protective instincts, and for a moment, it influenced how you acted.”

Vivienne crossed her arms, tail flicking behind her in irritation. “So, you’re saying I got temporarily possessed by some random memory? Great. Just what I needed—mystery emotions popping up whenever they feel like it.”

Kivvy snickered. “You were pretty convincing, though. It was kinda nice, like having a big sister for a second. Don’t worry, though—you went back to being insufferable real quick.”

Vivienne shot her a playful glare. “Careful, Kivvy. Keep that up, and I might accidentally summon one of those crystal beasts to sit on you.” Despite her words, she still seemed unsettled, her mind clearly turning over what Tarric had said.

Tarric, meanwhile, looked like he was ready to launch into another round of magical theorizing, but Vivienne cut him off with a raised hand. “Hold that thought. Let’s not turn this into a lecture. Just let me know if I start acting like someone’s doting grandma again.”

“But I liked it…” Kivvy muttered under her breath, casting a quick glance away as though embarrassed by the admission.

Tarric, lost in thought, didn’t seem to notice. He nodded eagerly, hands twitching as if he wanted to grab a quill and parchment right there. “This raises so many questions! Are these fragments truly remnants of souls, or perhaps something more ethereal—echoes imprinted by beings that once existed in dense aetheric flows? Could they be the scattered memories of those who died in places steeped with aether?”

“Tarric.” Vivienne’s tone was sharp as she held up her clawed hands, her black tongue flicking out in agitation. “Later. I need to think without my brain melting from all the questions. Also, we’ve got more immediate concerns. Someone has to take watch, and since I can’t pass through the wards without breaking them—unless you want your fancy new warmth zone to collapse—I’m not exactly the best choice.” She gave him a pointed look. “And neither are you, considering you’ve lost enough blood to put down a lesser man. Honestly, I’m surprised you’re even upright right now.”

Tarric rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, the exhaustion in his eyes more obvious now that Vivienne pointed it out. “Fair point. I didn’t really want to lie down in the first place; I’m afraid I won’t get back up if I do.”

Kivvy, ever the opportunist, seized the moment. “Guess that means it’s up to me. Don’t worry, I’ll keep watch. Goblins don’t need much sleep anyway, and besides—” she winked at Vivienne—“I’ve got sharp eyes and sharp ears. I’ll make sure nothing sneaks up on us.”

Vivienne was caught off guard by Kivvy’s newfound confidence. The faint trace of fear she used to taste clinging to the goblin was barely there anymore. A part of her was pleased—maybe even proud—but a slightly larger part found herself… disappointed. Fear, after all, tasted delicious.