Mother of Midnight

Chapter 142 – What is an Unemployed Merc?

Vivienne bolted upright, gasping for breath. Her heart thundered in her chest, a reflexive action that had once been a part of her human experience—one that hadn’t been necessary for some time now, yet she couldn’t shake the instinct. Her black eyes darted around the unfamiliar surroundings, her pulse still racing as her mind tried to catch up with her body.

She was in a tent. The air was thick with the scent of leather and campfire smoke, and the dim flickering light of a nearby flame barely illuminated the canvas walls around her. The soft rustle of fabric and the faint crackling of embers were the only sounds breaking the oppressive silence. Her claws dug into the plush bedding beneath her as she took in her surroundings—barely enough to calm the surge of unease flooding her system.

Her breath evened out as she looked around more carefully, trying to piece together what had happened. There was no sign of anyone else in the tent. She wasn’t sure where she was or how she had gotten there, and for a moment, the overwhelming weight of the situation pressed against her chest, threatening to suffocate her. Her gaze swept over the space once more, this time with sharper focus. No one else. She was alone.

The events before she had woken up came rushing back to her in a dizzying blur. Akhenna, her cryptic answers, the strange questions—then the sudden fall into darkness, the feeling of being thrust somewhere else.

Vivienne slipped out from under the heavy covers, feeling the chill of the night air seep into her skin as her feet touched the soft earth. She adjusted her long tail, letting it drag behind her for balance, and made her way toward the entrance of the tent. The rustling of the fabric as she pushed it aside was the only sound accompanying her movements.

Stepping outside, she squinted against the dim light of the flickering campfire, her eyes adjusting to the sights before her. The flames cast long shadows across the ground, illuminating the faces of the others gathered around the fire. Kivvy was hunched over, poking the fire with a stick, her eyes darting between the flames and the group, while Tarric sat leaning back against a nearby log, looking relaxed but alert.

The moment Vivienne fully emerged, Rava’s voice rang out, breaking the quiet night. “Viv… you are awake. I haven’t seen you sleep… at all.”

Vivienne blinked, her brows furrowing as she stepped closer to the fire, the warmth from the flames reaching her skin but doing little to ease the discomfort that had taken root inside her. “I didn’t realize I was so conspicuous,” she said dryly, her voice steady despite the lingering disorientation from her strange dream-like experience.

Rava stood and crossed the distance between them, her expression a mixture of concern and mild irritation. “You’ve been out cold for hours. Kivvy said you just… collapsed. I’m starting to wonder if something’s wrong. You usually don’t sleep. Ever.”

Vivienne ran a hand through her hair, carefully avoiding her horns, her mind still foggy. “I don’t remember the last time I actually slept,” she muttered, more to herself than anyone else. “Something must’ve happened… I just don’t know what.”

Kivvy, who had been quietly watching from the edge of the firelight, piped up. “It wasn’t normal, that’s for sure. One minute you’re there, the next you’re out like a lamp.” She shrugged, a mischievous grin playing at the corners of her mouth. “But hey, maybe it’s a good thing. You could use a nap every once in a while.”

Vivienne felt the weight of the situation pressing on her chest, but she didn’t want to show any weakness, not now. Not with them. Instead, she gave Kivvy a half-smirk, her gaze flickering to Tarric. “Anything useful from your side of the camp, or are you all just waiting for me to wake up and sort things out?” she asked, her tone light, masking the unsettled feeling gnawing at her from the inside.

I was filling in some details for Tarric while you were unconscious,” Rava said, casually tying off the last of the tent ropes as she glanced over to Vivienne.

Vivienne nodded, her gaze distant for a moment. "Sounds reasonable. When are we off?"

“We can pack up now,” Rava replied, her tone brisk as she moved to start gathering their belongings.

Tarric, who had been checking his own gear, turned toward the wagon and raised an eyebrow. "Oh, umm, how are we pulling the wagon? I don’t see any quocha here,” he asked, his eyes scanning for any sign of the beasts.

Rava, not missing a beat, tilted her head toward Vivienne. “She has been the one pulling it. She volunteered for it.”

Vivienne gave a slight shrug, a nonchalant smile tugging at her lips. “No big deal. I don’t mind taking care of it.”

Tarric's eyes widened in surprise. “That makes sense! Don’t have to worry about scaring the beasts of burden that way,” he said, a grin forming on his face. “Well, as long as you’re good with it, I won’t argue.”

Vivienne chuckled softly, her tail flicking behind her. “I’m more than capable. Let’s just get moving.”

Less than an hour, the camp was packed up, and Vivienne transformed and hitched to the wagon. They all made their way south, the snowy north eventually giving way to the slightly less cold northern steppes. With two less people and one extra on the return trip, half the supplies gone, and tarric being weirdly short for a Serkoth, everyone was able to fit into the cart.

After several days of travel, the atmosphere had settled into a steady rhythm. Renzia and Tarric were deep in conversation, with Tarric’s usual enthusiasm turning the air almost electric as he asked endless questions about Renzia's origins and abilities. Only half of the conversation could be heard, the other half being scribbled on a slate.

Vivienne, who had been pulling the wagon, her eyes scanning the horizon, suddenly broke the calm with a sharp declaration. “I think something is approaching... maybe several things. I taste… anticipation.”

Rava immediately stilled, her ears twitching as she focused on the sounds around them. Her eyes narrowed. “I think I hear it too. Rashan Raptors, or something similar.”

The mention of Rashan Raptors caught Tarric’s attention, and his face shifted from curiosity to caution. “Would it be Drakthar? Why would they be this far east?”

Rava cocked her head thoughtfully. “Maybe. But it could also be bandits. We’ve been traveling along some well-worn paths lately. Not everyone likes to share.”

Vivienne grinned, her sharp eyes glinting in the fading light. “Oh, I like bandits. I hope they are bandits. Can I have them if they are?” Her voice was eager, a predatory gleam in her tone. She half-turned to Rava, as if expecting an answer to her request.

Rava rolled her eyes. “If it’s bandits, I will think about it.”

Tarric muttered a few incantations under his breath, his fingers flicking through subtle gestures as a faint shimmer of protective aether settled over the group. His eyes remained sharp, scanning the terrain for any sign of what Vivienne and Rava had detected. They pressed onward, tension thick in the air as they awaited whatever approached.

Before long, it became clear. A pack of Rashan Raptors—sleek, fast creatures bred for both hunting and riding—emerged from the brush, each one bearing a rider clad in armor. The group of riders, twelve in total, closed in around the wagon with precision, their mounts snarling and snapping at the air.

"Halt. Stop, and no harm will come to you!" barked one of the riders, a man whose equipment was noticeably better than the rest. His polished breastplate gleamed dully in the afternoon light, and a crimson scarf hung loosely around his neck, marking him as the leader.

Rava, ever calm under pressure, gave an exaggerated tug on the thick leather reins looped around Vivienne’s shoulders, drawing their procession to a theatrical halt. The gesture caught Vivienne off guard, and she had to bite back an undignified yelp. She’s doing this on purpose… Vivienne thought irritably, suppressing the odd mix of embarrassment and something else she didn’t want to think about.

The riders formed a loose circle around the wagon. Their leader remained out front, flanked by two men on either side, while the rest held positions behind, weapons ready but not yet drawn. The leader raised a hand in what might have been intended as a placating gesture, though the demand that followed was anything but friendly.

“Sorry about this,” he began, though there was little apology in his tone, “but we’re going to have to ask for half of your supplies. Times are tough, with the war up north, you see.”

Vivienne noted the faint murmur that ran through the group of riders. Their eyes kept darting toward her, whispers exchanged as they took in her massive size, the dark sheen of her fur, and the controlled yet undeniable power in her posture.

"Did you see the size of that thing?" one of them muttered.

"How’d they tame something like that?" another whispered, sounding both awed and uneasy.

“I don’t recommend trying to rob us,” Rava said casually, cutting through the low hum of conversation. She gave an almost lazy wave in Vivienne’s direction. “Viv here is getting a bit hungry.”

The leader’s eyes flicked downward, meeting Vivienne’s unblinking, glowing gaze. He nodded slowly, as if acknowledging the thinly veiled threat, though he didn’t seem deterred. “I’m sure,” he said, his voice steady despite the tension. “But we have mouths to feed too. With the war in the north, we’re left with little choice. I’m going to have to insist.”

Rava’s gaze narrowed as she studied the man. He wore no badge or emblem to indicate allegiance to any known faction, no colors to signify a banner. Just mercenaries or bandits, then—not surprising given the state of things lately.

Behind the leader, one of the riders leaned closer to his companion. "Think they trained it, or did they find it in the wild?"

"No way you train something that big. Must’ve been raised from a pup or something. Or it’s under some kind of spell."

Tarric, perched at the front of the wagon, caught the last comment and turned slightly, a bemused smile tugging at his lips. "Under a spell?" he muttered quietly to himself, shaking his head.

"Would explain how calm it is," another rider chimed in, keeping his voice low. "Bet it’s one of those enchanted beasts from the northern forests."

Vivienne, listening with her enhanced hearing, felt a flicker of amusement at their speculation. Enchanted beast? Really? she thought, resisting the urge to grin—or bare her teeth. She let out a low, rumbling growl for effect, and the nearest Rashan Raptors shifted uneasily, their riders pulling back on the reins.

“Last chance to back off,” Rava said, her voice cold now, losing the earlier air of casual warning. “We’re tired and just want to get home.”

The leader hesitated, clearly weighing his options. His men might outnumber them, but the presence of Vivienne—and the fact that they didn’t know exactly what she was—clearly gave him pause. He glanced toward his second, who gave a small shrug, as if to say it wasn’t worth the risk.

"Maybe we should let this one go," one of the riders murmured, eyeing Vivienne warily. "Don’t like the look of that wolf. Too… unnatural."

“Unnatural or not,” the leader replied in a low voice, “we can’t leave empty-handed. Look at them—travelers, not soldiers. We can take them. The wolf is tied to the wagon anyway.”

"Yeah? And what if the wolf tears us apart before we can even draw our swords?"

Vivienne’s ears twitched as she caught every word, her eyes narrowing slightly. She didn’t need to hear any more to know how this would end if they pressed the issue.

"Last chance," the leader repeated, his tone carrying more steel now, though there was a flicker of unease in his eyes. He raised a hand to signal his men to hold their ground. "We are being kind here, only asking for half of what you have."

Rava groaned audibly, rubbing the bridge of her nose as if she was trying to ward off a headache. "Viv," she said with exaggerated patience, casting a sidelong glance toward the massive wolf beside her, "if any of them flee, just let them go. You can have the stubborn ones."

Vivienne’s eyes gleamed with something more than anticipation. “Oh, you really know how to treat a girl,” she murmured, her voice low, dripping with mock sweetness.

The bandits stiffened. Some exchanged uneasy glances, whispers passing among them like wildfire. “It can talk?” one of the younger riders blurted, his knuckles whitening as he tightened his grip on his reins.

No one had a chance to react further.

In a heartbeat, Vivienne’s form began to shift. Her coarse black fur shimmered and darkened, then liquefied as though her very flesh was melting away. The harness fell uselessly to the ground with a dull clatter. Where once there had been a towering wolf, now there was only a roiling, inky mass—alive, seething with energy, and expanding outward at an alarming rate.

Before their eyes, she surged forward, her amorphous shape twisting and reshaping itself, lengthening into several sleek, serpentine forms. Her hydra form coalesced with a fluid grace, six heads rising high above the ground, each one crowned by obsidian horns that gleamed menacingly in the light. Iridescent crystal shards jutted along her sinewy necks, catching the sunlight and casting fragmented reflections across the terrified faces of the bandits.

Gasps and curses filled the air as the bandits scrambled to comprehend what they were seeing.

"Gods above, what is that?" one of the men stammered, backing his raptor up a few steps.

“Is she some kind of spirit?!” another whispered hoarsely, his voice trembling.

"Hold your ground!" the leader barked, but even his voice lacked the confidence it had moments before. He drew his sword, though the weapon looked laughably small compared to the looming hydra before him.

Vivienne let out a deep, resonant growl that seemed to reverberate through the ground itself. Each head moved independently, their eyes glowing with an eerie, molten intensity, like molten crystal caught mid-flow. Her six maws opened slightly, revealing rows of glistening, needle-like teeth.

Rava’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. "Actually, keep the leader alive," she added casually, as though discussing the weather. "I have questions."

The hydra’s center head turned toward Rava, lowering slightly as Vivienne’s grin stretched wider, each of her other five heads echoing the same expression in perfect synchronization. Her voice, now layered and harmonic, rolled through the air with an unnerving calm. "Understood. The rest are mine."

“By the gods, she’s a monster,” one of the riders muttered under his breath, barely above a whisper.

"Think she’s tamed?" another asked, gripping his weapon tightly, though his hands trembled slightly. "No way they just… let

her loose on us like that.""Does it matter?" snapped a third. "If she’s tame, she’s tame for them. We’re dead if we fight."

The youngest rider, barely more than a boy, tried to turn his raptor around, panic etched across his face. “I-I didn’t sign up for this—”

"You move, you die," one of Vivienne’s heads hissed, her voice carrying a razor’s edge that froze him in place. Tears welled in his eyes, but he didn’t dare move.

Tarric, standing by the wagon, quietly observed the unfolding chaos. He leaned slightly toward Rava, his voice low. “Do you think this counts as overkill?”

"Not if they keep pushing their luck," Rava replied with a shrug. "Besides, it’s faster this way."

The leader’s eyes darted between his men and the hydra, sweat beading on his brow. He took a cautious step forward, keeping his weapon raised but not brandished aggressively. "We don’t need to do this," he said, forcing what little composure he could muster into his voice. "We’re just trying to survive out here. There’s no need for bloodshed."

"You had your chance," Rava replied flatly, arms crossed. "Now it’s up to Viv how this ends."

Vivienne didn’t wait for further excuses or pleas. Her six heads snapped into action, each moving with terrifying speed toward the nearest riders. The Rashan Raptors, sensing the danger, shrieked and attempted to scatter. Their powerful legs kicked up clouds of dust as they darted in different directions, their riders struggling to maintain control.

The hydra’s leftmost head lunged at one of the fleeing mounts, jaws clamping down on its hindquarters with a sickening crunch. The beast let out a piercing wail as it thrashed wildly, trying to escape Vivienne’s iron grip. Its rider was thrown violently from the saddle, hitting the ground hard with a grunt. Before he could scramble to his feet, Vivienne’s tail whipped around, pinning him to the ground.

"Stay put," one of her heads hissed, its voice dripping with menace. The man froze, eyes wide with terror as he watched the hydra’s central head crush his mount in a single, brutal motion. Blood splattered across the ground, mingling with the dust.

The other riders weren’t faring much better. Vivienne’s serpentine necks twisted and weaved through the chaos, creating a nightmarish whirlwind of motion. One rider tried to veer his raptor away, spurring the beast to greater speed, but he wasn’t fast enough. A second head darted forward, its sharp teeth sinking into the creature’s neck. The raptor collapsed mid-stride, sending its rider sprawling.

"Please, no!" the man cried, scrambling backward on his hands and knees as Vivienne loomed over him.

She didn’t respond with words. Instead, her eyes gleamed with cruel satisfaction as she seized the fallen raptor’s limp body in her jaws and tore it apart. Blood sprayed across the ground as she devoured the beast, ignoring the horrified gaze of its former rider.

Several bandits managed to break free of the encirclement, their mounts racing toward the distant treeline. One of Vivienne’s heads began to lunge after them, but another—her central head—pulled back slightly.

"Let them run," she said, her layered voice carrying a predatory amusement. "Fear spreads faster than fire. Let them tell tales of what they saw today."

Meanwhile, the leader, still on his raptor, sat frozen in place. He hadn’t tried to flee, knowing that to turn his back would be an invitation to die and the raptor seemed too terrified to even move. Instead, he gritted his teeth, gripping his sword tightly as Vivienne’s six heads swayed around him in a predatory dance.

“Courageous,” one of her heads remarked, tilting slightly as it drew nearer. “Or just clever enough to know when to stay still.”

“Y-you got what you wanted!” the leader stammered, his voice shaking despite his best efforts to sound composed. “You don’t need to kill anyone else. We can still—”

Vivienne’s central head moved so quickly that the leader barely had time to flinch before her jaws closed around his raptor’s neck. The beast let out a strangled cry as it was torn from under him, its powerful legs thrashing uselessly in the air. The hydra lifted the raptor high before slamming it into the ground with bone-shattering force. Blood pooled beneath the broken creature as Vivienne’s jaws released it, lifeless and crumpled.

The leader tumbled to the ground, landing hard on his side. He groaned in pain, clutching his ribs, but didn’t have time to recover before Vivienne’s heads closed in around him. Her massive form cast a long, dark shadow over his trembling figure.

"Now," Vivienne said, her voice dangerously soft, "let’s talk about those questions Rava mentioned."

The surviving bandits, some dismounted, others pinned by Vivienne’s heads or cowering beside their slain mounts, watched helplessly as their leader was dragged closer to the monstrous hydra. None dared move. They knew better than to provoke further wrath.

Vivienne lowered one of her heads to the leader’s level, her glowing eyes boring into his.”So my companion has some questions for you.”

They gathered all the information they could from the leader. His story was one of a once-respected mercenary company that had fallen into disarray. Drakthar, facing increasing pressure from rival forces, had gradually stopped paying many of its hired swords. This led to the inevitable—a trickle of unpaid deserters turning into a flood, leaving many mercenaries without coin, direction, or prospects. Desperation bred reckless choices, and those choices brought them here, trying to extort supplies from travelers just to survive another week.

Stripped of their armor, weapons, and any gear of use, the remaining bandits—those who hadn’t fled during the chaos—were sent away. None of them dared argue or linger. They staggered off with hollow expressions, more humiliated than defeated. Vivienne watched them go with a mixture of disappointment and mild annoyance. There was a hungry gleam in her many eyes as she tracked their movements until they disappeared into the horizon. Rava had been firm: they weren’t hauling prisoners back to Serkoth, nor were they leaving anyone capable of retaliating armed. A pragmatic decision, if not one Vivienne particularly liked.

Her disappointment didn’t last long. She was given free rein over the captured mounts—Rashan Raptors, their sleek, sinewy forms now lifeless and strewn across the ground. They were well-bred beasts, strong and fast, and Vivienne wasted no time in tearing into the first of them. The taste was unexpectedly rich, the meat dense with energy. Aether flowed through each bite, familiar and invigorating, reminiscent of the thornback she had devoured over a month ago. The sharp tang of power lingered in her senses long after she finished the last of them, leaving her deeply satisfied. She made sure to eat everything as fast as she could, and wasting good aether-rich meat was out of the question. Fortunately six heads make for quick eating.

Once the area was cleared of bodies and stripped gear, they resumed their journey. The wagon creaked steadily along, pulled once again by Vivienne in her humanoid form. The tension from the encounter had long since faded, though the group remained vigilant in case any other threats lay ahead. The road wound through sparse forests and open plains, the scenery shifting subtly as they traveled further east.

Four days passed uneventfully, marked only by the rhythmic clatter of the wagon wheels and the occasional conversation between Tarric and Renzia. The atmosphere grew lighter as they drew nearer to their destination. By the fourth day, a sense of anticipation settled over the group as the massive stone walls of Serkoth appeared on the horizon. Tall and imposing, the fortifications cast long shadows in the late afternoon sun, their darkened surfaces hinting at centuries of weathering and battle. The sight of the city, looming in the distance like a sentinel of civilization amidst the wilderness, filled them with a quiet sense of relief.

They were finally nearing home.