Mother of Midnight

Chapter 141 – Oracle

Vivienne blinked, her eyes adjusting to the opulence of the room around her. It was an odd space, the kind of place where time seemed to warp. Velvet curtains draped the walls in shades of deep crimson, contrasting sharply with the gleaming brass fixtures that adorned the room. Elegant but unsettling tapestries lined the space, depicting scenes she couldn’t quite place—figures and symbols that seemed to exist in worlds that didn’t quite match each other. The lavishness felt excessive, almost as though the space itself was trying to assert its dominance over the mind of anyone who entered.

She was seated in a chair that seemed to mock her presence, its intricate carvings and overstuffed cushions designed to make one feel as if they had been swallowed by it. The upholstery was garish, a mix of gold and emerald, and yet somehow it still looked inviting, despite the discomfort of its excess.

A sharp voice sliced through the air, and Vivienne’s gaze snapped to the figure sitting across from her.

“Hello again, little Vivi,” Akhenna said, her lips curled into a faint smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She sat back in her own chair, as unnervingly comfortable as Vivienne’s, her posture relaxed but with an air of superiority. Her presence filled the room as though she were an integral part of its very being.

Vivienne steadied herself, though the more she tried to fix her focus on any one thing in the room, the more it seemed to shift under her gaze. The walls undulated like breathing fabric, the brass fixtures gleamed in ways that defied the firelight, and the tapestries… she swore the figures moved when she wasn’t looking directly at them. It was like standing in the eye of a storm, where nothing was truly still.

Her eyes flicked to Akhenna, seated with the air of a queen holding court in her own ever-shifting domain. The goddess looked utterly at ease, her expression touched with amusement, as though savoring a private joke.

“You’ve done well so far. Very well.” Akhenna’s voice was rich, pleased.

Vivienne arched a brow. “I have? The task you gave me was pretty vague. I feel like I’ve been floundering around, just making it up as I go.”

“Absolutely!” Akhenna’s grin stretched wide, her sharp teeth flashing. “And it has been delightful to watch. You have no idea of the ripples you’ve caused already—magnificent!”

Vivienne tilted her head, her brow furrowing. She wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or not, but there was something infectious about Akhenna’s delight. She allowed herself a small, bemused smile. “Well, I aim to please.”

“And you have.” Akhenna leaned forward, her fingers lacing together beneath her chin. “So, I have brought you here for a reward.”

Vivienne straightened slightly. “A reward?”

“Yes. A gift, a boon, a little something for my dear champion.” Akhenna’s eyes gleamed, her lips curling. “What would you like? A small fortune, perhaps, to fund those entrepreneurial endeavors of yours? A bit more power?” She spread her hands as if presenting a feast. “Tell me, little songbird, what do you want, and I will grant it.”

Vivienne narrowed her eyes slightly. “There’s a catch.”

Akhenna laughed, a low, indulgent sound. “Oh, naturally. It wouldn’t be any fun if there weren’t. It isn’t a blank check—things need to stay interesting, after all.”

Vivienne tapped a claw against the arm of her chair, considering. This wasn’t a situation to rush into blindly—though, if Akhenna had her way, she imagined that was exactly what the goddess wanted her to do.

She let the silence stretch just long enough to see how much patience Akhenna had. Not much, as it turned out. The goddess’s fingers drummed against the armrest, her lips pursed in something that might have been amusement or mild annoyance.

“Well?” Akhenna prompted. “Don’t tell me you’ve nothing in mind. Surely there’s something you desire.”

“Oh, plenty of things.” Vivienne exhaled, shifting in her chair. “But I like knowing what I’m getting into before I sign my name on the dotted line.”

Akhenna smirked. “You wound me. As if I’d try to trick you.”

Vivienne gave her a flat look.

Akhenna laughed. “Alright, fine. The rules are simple: you can ask for something within reason—nothing world-breaking, no instant ascension to godhood, no ‘I wish to know everything’ nonsense. And in return…” She waved a hand lazily. “I get to keep watching, and enjoying, as you weave yourself deeper into the grand design of chaos. Nothing so terrible, hm?”

Vivienne considered that. The goddess hadn’t said there was no price—just that it wasn’t immediate. The game was always ongoing, and Akhenna liked to play the long one.

She could ask for power, but she wasn’t sure what she needed yet. She could ask for something tangible—wealth, resources—but those felt temporary, distractions at best. No, she had something else on her mind.

“Well, if I have your attention, then I have some questions,” Vivienne said smoothly, resting her elbow on the chair’s armrest.

Akhenna’s eyes sparkled, her grin widening like a cat spotting a particularly interesting mouse. “Oh? An oracle’s blessing is quite valuable, you know. I will allow four questions.” She held up four slender fingers, wiggling them in emphasis.

Vivienne’s eyes narrowed slightly. “That doesn’t seem like much.”

Akhenna let out a peal of laughter, the sound rich and honeyed, but laced with something sharp beneath the surface. “Are they not?” She leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm. “Do you have any idea just how much a god knows? Even Serranos, that dull, brooding thing, is no mere brute. We gods see much. Know much.” Her smile widened, a teasing glint in her gaze. “Especially the primordials.”

Vivienne caught onto the weight of that word immediately. “Primordials?”

Akhenna clicked her tongue, feigning disappointment. “Tsk, tsk. I almost want to count that as one of your questions,” she teased, before waving a hand. “But it isn’t anything you couldn’t find out with a bit of digging, so I’ll be merciful.”

Vivienne resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

Akhenna leaned back in her chair, one leg draping over the other in a lazy, fluid motion. “There are five of us—the ones most of the mortal species refer to as the higher deities. The true gods, if you will.” She twirled a strand of golden hair around her finger. “The rest? Well, they are what mortals often call the lesser

deities, or the mortal deities. Smaller things, bound by constraints we are not.”Vivienne filed that information away, studying the goddess’s expression. Akhenna clearly enjoyed the distinction, wearing her superiority as effortlessly as the fine silks draped over her form. But there was a casual sort of amusement there too, as though the whole divine hierarchy was just a particularly entertaining game to her.

“And how do the lesser ones feel about that?” Vivienne asked, watching Akhenna closely. She wasn’t expecting an honest answer, but she was curious what the goddess wanted her to believe.

Akhenna exhaled in amusement, her lips curling into something between a smirk and a sneer. “Depends,” she said breezily, stretching her arms over the back of her chair. “Some chafe, scratching and whining like a caged beast. Some accept it, as well they should. And some—” her grin widened, teeth flashing like a knife’s edge, “—some are removed from the pantheon entirely should they get some… destructive ideas.”

Vivienne arched a brow. “Removed?”

Akhenna flicked a hand as if swatting away an insect. “Oh yes. We haven’t had a god of festivities for over eight centuries. A few very good reasons for that.”

Vivienne took that in with a slow nod, deciding not to press why the role had been left empty. Yet. Instead, she tilted her head. “So what exactly is the difference between a primordial and a mortal deity?”

Akhenna’s eyes gleamed with something sharp, something hungry. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, and whispered in a conspiratorial tone, “You know, some of my peers would smite you for interrupting.”

Vivienne met her gaze without hesitation, her voice steady. “I don’t think you would.”

The goddess stilled for half a breath before throwing her head back in laughter. It was rich and decadent, but edged with something wicked, like the final notes of a song played on broken strings. “Good,” she purred, her grin stretching wide. “That makes me all the more sure I was correct in appointing you.”

She sat back, crossing one leg over the other, amusement still dancing in her expression. “Now, where was I? Ah, yes. Primordials.”

She traced a lazy circle in the air with her fingertip, and the space between them rippled like disturbed water. “The main difference is that we existed before the world. We are woven into its very fabric, fundamental in ways no lesser deity could ever hope to be. And, for the most part—” her eyes gleamed, “—we cannot truly be killed.”

Vivienne’s fingers drummed absently against the chair’s armrest. For the most part?

Akhenna didn’t wait for her to ask. “The mortal deities, on the other hand, were not always gods. They were once like you, flesh and ambition wrapped in something fragile. Then they ascended—underwent apotheosis—becoming divine in their chosen specialty.” She waved a hand dismissively. “But no matter how mighty they become, they can still be ended. Gods can slay other gods. Mortals? Mm. Unlikely.”

She leaned forward again, her voice rich with amusement. “The most powerful of them each govern a form of aether. Those are the ones you’d do well to remember. Or don’t. I don’t care either way.” She gave a casual shrug, as though the fate of the mortal realm was nothing more than an idle curiosity to her.

Vivienne’s brow furrowed, considering the weight of Akhenna’s words. The gods—all the gods—were more than just powerful beings; they were woven into the very essence of the world itself, shaping and shifting the flow of aether. And yet, even among them, some held more sway than others. Akhenna’s cryptic words left her wondering who else might be playing this game, and whether her role in it truly mattered or was just a means to entertain the whims of those far above her.

“Well. Thank you for telling me,” Vivienne said, her voice steady despite the churn of thoughts filling her mind.

Akhenna’s smile widened, almost too wide, as if enjoying the brief moment of discomfort she’d caused. “You are most welcome.” She hummed thoughtfully, settling back into her seat. “But now, you have your four questions, your chosen boon. Think carefully before you ask. I am eager to see what you’ll choose.”

Vivienne shifted her weight slightly, feeling the tension that had begun to creep into her shoulders. This was the moment she had been waiting for—the moment she could ask the questions that had been burning inside her. But Akhenna’s words rang in her ears: Think carefully.

With a deep breath, Vivienne steadied herself. This was not just about what she wanted; this was about getting the answers that would help her shape the path ahead. No more aimless wandering. She needed clarity. She needed direction.

Her gaze met Akhenna’s, unwavering. “Then let’s begin.”

Akhenna tilted her head slightly, a hint of amusement still playing in her eyes. “Your first question, little Vivi. Speak.”

Vivienne paused for a moment, weighing her options. She could ask about her quest, about the larger role she was meant to play in the unfolding of this tangled web. But there was something more personal she needed to know, something she hadn’t fully come to terms with.

“Why me? Why put me in this body?” Vivienne asked again, her voice steady but carrying the weight of a deeper curiosity. She wasn’t sure why the question burned within her so much, but it did. The answer to this—why her—felt like the missing piece of a puzzle she’d been trying to solve since the moment she had come into being in this unfamiliar form.

Akhenna’s grin spread even further, an expression full of pride and amusement, as though Vivienne’s question were a little game she was enjoying playing. The goddess tapped her fingers together, her eyes glimmering with something like mischief. “That’s two questions, darling,” she said with an exaggerated drawl. “Do you want it to count for two or is one a more burning question?” Her voice danced with playful mockery, as though testing Vivienne's patience.

Vivienne frowned, her thoughts churning in an uncertain spiral. She had no frame of reference for this—this situation, this deity, this power she was tangled in. She had only four questions, and yet it felt as though choosing one over the other could tip the scales of her existence. She had no idea if either question would even matter in the long run. Would the answers change anything? Would they really matter when she was standing at the precipice of something far greater than her current understanding?

She had lived this long by simply making her way through the chaos, surviving each day as it came. But this—this was bigger than that. It had to be. The goddess had clearly placed some value on her, and Vivienne couldn’t shake the feeling that this moment was pivotal, like a crossroads in the vastness of her journey.

She glanced at Akhenna again, who was watching her with an amused, calculating gaze, as though she were savoring the struggle in Vivienne’s expression. It was all too much, too much for someone like her to grasp at once. The weight of it nearly suffocated her.

Focus, Vivienne told herself. This is important. These questions… they mean something.

Finally, after a long silence, she sighed softly. There was a reason that question nagged at her more than the others. Why this body? Because it felt like the crux of everything. It was the most personal thing she could ask, the thing that tied her to Akhenna in a way she didn’t yet understand.

"Fine," she muttered, her voice quiet but firm, steadying her thoughts. "Why put me in this body?"

Akhenna’s lips curled into a knowing smile, her eyes glinting with some secret she was all too eager to keep. "That’s a question I knew you’d ask, little Vivi," she said softly, the words drawing out the air between them. 

The goddess’s wicked grin stretched wide, sharp and gleaming with satisfaction. “Because I thought it would be funny,” she purred. “And I was right.”

Vivienne’s fingers twitched, her first instinct to snap back at the flippant response, but she caught herself before the words left her mouth. A trap. A deliberate provocation. She was not about to waste a question on something so obviously meant to goad her. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she forced herself to exhale.

“Would you—” She stopped herself sharply, biting down on the impulse. No. Not like that. Be careful. Instead, she straightened her posture, lifted her chin, and softened her tone. “I would greatly appreciate it if you explained,” she said instead, polite, deliberate.

Akhenna’s many eyes glinted, narrowing slightly as if assessing her. Then, in the space of a breath, her grin widened, and a booming, raucous laughter erupted from her throat, shaking the very fabric of reality around them. The air itself warped, rippling like disturbed water, the weight of her amusement pressing against Vivienne’s skin.

“Yes, yes, you are smart! Wonderful!” Akhenna cackled, the sound somehow both joyous and cruel, as though she had just won a game Vivienne hadn’t even realized she was playing. The air trembled around them for a moment longer before it finally settled, reality snapping back into place as if it had merely been a sheet rattled by the wind.

“Then I shall.” Akhenna leaned forward, resting her chin on the back of her hand, her grin turning sharp and hungry, like a cat toying with its prey. “You. A timid little thing by nature. One who quaked at the thought of contact with strangers. One who struggled to leave the house, yet still did so—out of duty, out of love—to escort her children to school. You, whose biggest fear wasn’t death or ruin or suffering. No, you were afraid of failure. Of letting your husband down. Of not being enough for the ones you loved.”

Vivienne’s throat tightened, but she said nothing.

“And yet… look at you now.” Akhenna’s grin deepened, a dark amusement in her gaze. “Changed so much since setting foot in Nymoria. What could possibly be funnier than placing a woman who abhorred violence into the body of a monster? One whose instincts sang for blood, whose very existence thrives on the suffering of others? You, who flinched at confrontation, now wielding claws sharp enough to carve through flesh and bone like butter. You, who barely raised your voice in life, now tearing through enemies with a song.”

Vivienne swallowed. Her faux heart beat steady in her chest, but something in her gut twisted.

Akhenna tilted her head, her many eyes gleaming. “You didn’t even hesitate,” she purred. “You didn’t have to eat meat. You could have taken from dreams, siphoned fear from the unwary, lived off whispers and nightmares.” She clicked her tongue, wagging a finger. “But no. You jumped on, what, the third opportunity to kill and consume someone? Oh, it was marvelous!”

Her laughter rang out again, softer this time but no less delighted. “You barely even thought about it, did you? Didn’t agonize over morality, didn’t mourn what you had become. It felt right. It felt good.”

Vivienne stared at her, quiet.

Because Akhenna was right.

She had spent no time wrestling with guilt. No crisis of conscience over what she had done, what she had become. It had come naturally, as though it had always been a part of her, waiting beneath the surface. She had torn into flesh, devoured, thrived, and the only thing she had ever felt about it was satisfaction.

She had never been a killer.

Until she was.

And she had barely even noticed. Barely given it thought past one or two discussions.

Akhenna’s grin sharpened, as though she could see the realization dawning in her eyes, and she gave a slow, pleased hum. “Oh, Vivi,” she purred, voice rich with amusement. “You’re so much fun to watch.”

Vivienne was a killer. A simple, inarguable fact—one she had long since accepted. There was no wringing of hands, no lingering whispers of guilt in the back of her mind. No prayers for absolution, no desperate justifications to soothe a conscience she no longer possessed. She killed. And she would kill again.

The only thing that mattered, if anything at all, was who she chose to kill. And even that was an arbitrary decision, dictated not by some moral code or personal conviction, but by the opinions of those she had decided—on a whim—to be friendly with. Their approval, their trust, their companionship—those were the only things keeping her from indulging her instincts wherever and however she pleased. She had no grand ideology, no deep-seated hatred, no righteous fury driving her hand. There was no moral weight behind her choices, only preference.

So long as she could kill and feed, she didn’t care who it was.

Bandits. Criminals. Traitors. Enemy soldiers. Whoever. The distinction was meaningless to her, just a matter of convenience. It was easier to kill those the world already reviled. Simpler to aim her hunger where others wouldn’t protest. But that was all it was—convenience. A practical decision, not a moral one.

Because in the end, it didn’t matter.

They bled the same. They screamed the same. They tasted the same.

And she would always be hungry.

Akhenna’s voice cut through Vivienne’s thoughts like a blade, sharp and amused.

“So, what is your next question?”

Vivienne blinked, her many eyes refocusing on the goddess before her. Her thoughts still swirled, but she pushed them aside. There was no point in lingering on them. Not here. Not now. She had limited time, and she wasn’t about to waste it.

She let out a slow breath, composing herself. “My quest,” she said, voice smooth despite the weight behind it. “What am I actually supposed to be doing?”

Akhenna's grin widened, all teeth and mischief. “Ahh, now that is a good question.” She leaned forward, the space around them warping as if reality itself was intrigued by Vivienne’s inquiry. “I wonder—what answer are you hoping for?”

Vivienne's lips curled, her tone deliberately languid. “Oh no, I heard you just fine, your worship.” The title dripped with enough exaggerated reverence to make her meaning unmistakable.

Akhenna giggled, the sound light yet crackling with something deeper, something wilder. She lounged back in her seat, her many eyes watching Vivienne with unfiltered amusement. “Good. Then you should know I’m being quite serious.” She waved a hand lazily, as though brushing aside the very notion of doubt.

“You have a rough idea of what you’re doing. There’s no single way to tear a system apart—no neat, little blueprint to follow when unraveling the plans of gods.” Her grin widened, her teeth just a shade too sharp, too perfect. “You’re already making all the right moves. Just continue. Kill. Eat. Fuck.” She leaned forward with a gleam in her eyes, relishing the weight of each word. “Whatever you please. It’s all working in the end.”

Vivienne arched a brow. “That’s it? No grand prophecy? No divine instructions? Just keep going?”

Akhenna’s expression turned positively gleeful. “Exactly! You’re getting it! Do you know how boring it is when everything is spelled out?” She waved a hand in mock disappointment. “Mortals always seem to want a roadmap. A neat, tidy plan. But that’s not how change happens, darling.” She tilted her head, the movement unnervingly fluid. “Much more fun when the pieces on the board don’t even know they’re playing in the game.”

Vivienne considered that for a moment, letting the words settle. She wasn’t sure what she had expected—some revelation, some grand directive—but in hindsight, this was more fitting. More her.

A slow smirk tugged at her lips. “Fair enough.”

Akhenna’s smirk widened, stretching just a little too far, her amusement practically tangible in the shifting air around her. She tapped her fingers against the armrest of her throne—if it could even be called that, the thing seemed to warp and shift every time Vivienne looked at it too closely.

“Last question, my little songbird,” she purred, her voice carrying the weight of both patience and mischief. “Ask it. I have places to be and all the time in the world.”

Vivienne narrowed her eyes slightly. “I thought I had two more.”

Akhenna placed a hand over her chest, the picture of feigned innocence. “Oh, my mistake.” Then, with a theatrical clearing of her throat, her voice dropped into a perfect mimicry of Vivienne’s own, exaggerated just enough to be mocking: “That’s it? No grand prophecy? No divine instructions? Just keep going?”

Vivienne let out a slow breath through her nose. “That was a clarification.”

Akhenna’s grin turned wicked. “And yet, you asked. I didn’t even have to twist your words for that one.” She tilted her head, her many eyes glinting with triumph. “Careless.”

Vivienne clenched her jaw. It had been a careless moment, and now it was gone—just like that. She should’ve known better than to expect a god of chaos to play fairly.

She sighed, rolling her shoulders before meeting Akhenna’s gaze evenly. “Fine. One question left.”

Akhenna gestured with a languid wave of her hand. “Make it count.”

There were so many questions still clawing at the edges of her mind, all vying for attention, all demanding to be spoken before this fleeting moment passed.

She wanted to know how many others had been pulled from Earth to Nymoria. Were they like her? Changed? Twisted? Were they thriving, suffering, or simply surviving? She knew Korriva was from Earth, but who else?

She wanted to know if there was a way back—not that she wanted to return, not now, but the knowledge alone would be a power in itself. A tether severed, or a door left ajar.

She wanted to know more about the gods, the true nature of their power, their limits—if they had any. If Akhenna could only act within her domain, if there were rules that bound even the primordials, if there was a force above them all.

She desperately wanted to ask what happened with her family, the one she left behind.

She wanted to ask what would happen if she failed. If she was crushed under the weight of whatever scheme Akhenna had thrown her into. If gods, true gods, ever felt disappointment.

But there was only one question left. And she had to make it count.

Vivienne swallowed her instinct to rush, forcing herself to think—really think—before she spoke. Then, slowly, deliberately, she met Akhenna’s many eyes and asked:

“…What is the greatest threat to my success?”

The goddess of chaos grinned in manic delight.