Mother of Midnight

Chapter 144 – Beyond Delectable

The meeting dragged on longer than Vivienne would have liked, the voices of the other family heads filling the room in a dull hum. She had never been one to fidget, but her recent transformation seemed to be pulling at her patience in ways it hadn’t before. She shifted in her seat, her tail swishing restlessly behind her as she let out a soft, audible sigh. Once, she could have sat through hours of work without so much as blinking, but now… Now, she wanted nothing more than to stretch her legs, to slip out into the night, and indulge in the hunt.

Her senses itched with the need for a chase. The thought of prowling the dark, of slipping silently through the shadows, sent a thrill through her, and the idea of giving some people some bad dreams for a brief snack only made the craving more tempting. She had neglected that particular ability for too long, perhaps because the feeling of power she got from consuming the flesh directly was far more intoxicating. She could hear the voices of the others, but they seemed a distant echo as her mind wandered to more primal things.

With a quick glance, she noticed how many of the family heads seemed to avoid looking her way. Perhaps they sensed the shift in her demeanor or simply didn’t dare provoke her. Her eyes flicked over the group once more, but her mind was already elsewhere. It was hard to concentrate on what was being said when all she could think about was the hunger gnawing at the edges of her thoughts. She had only just begun to fully embrace what she had become, and she was already eager to put her abilities to use.

Still, as she stood there, listening to the monotony of the meeting, she couldn’t help but crave that primal release. The taste of fear, the way it flared in the air like a crackling ember, had its appeal. She had embraced what she had become, welcomed the dark, twisting power that surged within her, and now it sang for release. But not yet. Not when there were more tantalizing morsels to be had.

The meeting dragged on, each word another obstacle between her and the satisfaction she craved. Her thoughts wandered, imagining what it would feel like to give in, to let loose her power and feed. To haunt a few minds, savor the terror, and maybe—just maybe—siphon off a little more than just the fear. But as she caught herself fantasizing about the hunt, she was pulled back to reality.

Finally, the meeting began to break, the family heads moving toward the door, their quiet conversations filling the space as the chatter died down. Korriva stood as well, her eyes scanning the room until they landed on Vivienne.

Korriva’s expression remained stern, unreadable, but her voice cut through the stillness. “Vivienne,” she began, the sharpness of her tone signaling a shift. “I need you to stay. There are matters that I wish to discuss privately.”

Vivienne shot Rava a quick glance, who simply shrugged before slipping away with the rest of their eclectic group.

Korriva waited until the last of the family heads had exited, the heavy door closing with a soft thud behind them. Then, without breaking eye contact, she moved to the center of the room, her posture commanding attention. The air in the hall seemed to thicken, the tension palpable. She walked up to Vivienne, towering over her, and pulled the sword at her hip out of its sheath.

“You said if you could taste another champion, you would be able to confirm it, yes?” Korriva's voice was steady, almost clinical, yet there was an edge to it, something measured in the way she spoke.

Vivienne tilted her head, her black eyes flicking up to meet the High Fang’s intense gaze. She studied the tall, imposing figure of Korriva, the air in the room thick with anticipation. After a moment, she nodded slowly, her long, obsidian tail curling slightly in the air. “Yes. I believe so.”

Korriva didn’t hesitate. She reached for a blade sheathed at her side and, in a fluid motion, brought it to her forearm. The gleaming steel sliced through her thick fur and down to the skin beneath, opening a shallow wound. Blood, rich and dark, began to seep out, trickling down her arm like liquid life.

“Then taste.”

Vivienne’s expression remained impassive, but there was a flicker of something dark behind her gaze—a predatory curiosity. She quirked an eyebrow, momentarily taken aback, before a small, sly smile played at the corner of her lips. She didn’t protest; she never had been one to shy away from indulgence, especially not in matters of aether.

With a soft, almost inaudible hiss, Vivienne extended her long, flexible tongue from her mouth. The black, prehensile appendage snaked through the air, its tip flicking in the direction of the wound. In one swift movement, she lashed out, her tongue making contact with the warm, bleeding flesh.

And then, the world tilted.

The taste was... overwhelming. It was like a thousand sensations exploding all at once, an intoxicating blend of flavors that overwhelmed her senses. Every single one of her favorite tastes seemed to surge through her all at once, impossibly rich, impossibly full. It wasn’t just the blood—no, it was something far deeper, something intrinsic to the woman before her. It was aether, potent and untamed. She could feel it, flowing through the wound and into her. And with it, came power, like a surge of energy coursing through her very being.

Vivienne’s mind went blank, her body swaying slightly as if she were on the verge of losing herself. It was the most intoxicating thing she had ever experienced, in this life or any before. Her senses drank it in greedily, each moment more euphoric than the last, the taste of a champion searing into her very core.

But then, just as quickly as it began, it was gone. A hand wrapped around her tongue, pulling her away from the wound. Not painfully, but firmly, yanking her back with surprising force.

Vivienne blinked, her head spinning, trying to process what had just happened. The taste still clung to her, an aftertaste that was both bitter and sweet, lingering in the back of her throat.

“I think that is enough,” Korriva said, her voice calm but with a note of authority that cut through the haze in Vivienne’s mind. She held her gaze, her eyes sharp, studying Vivienne intently. “Does this confirm it?”

Vivienne’s breathing was uneven as she recovered from the rush, her mind still reeling from the intensity of what she had experienced. She tried to steady herself, her black eyes finding Korriva’s, and for a long moment, she said nothing. Her tongue, now retracting back into her mouth, flicked at her lips, still tasting the remnants of what had been.

"Yes," Vivienne said, her voice thick with a strange mixture of reverence and hunger. Her eyes glinted in the dim light, a subtle but unmistakable shift in the way she regarded Korriva, as if she were a prize to be savored rather than merely observed. "You are definitely a champion."

Korriva raised an eyebrow at her, a flicker of confusion crossing her usually impassive features. "Yes, we knew that. Does she taste the same as me?" she asked, her voice tinged with both curiosity and suspicion.

Vivienne's lips curled into a smile, but it was far from pleasant. She tilted her head slightly, considering the question, as though savoring the memory of the taste that still lingered on her tongue. "Not at all," she replied with a soft laugh, the sound dark and rich, as if it were a private joke she was sharing with herself. "It’s not even comparable."

She paused for a moment, her eyes narrowing as she licked her lips, as though still tasting the remnants of the experience. "You must be extremely

powerful to have that much aether flowing through you. It’s... overwhelming, in a way. Like a storm that makes the air heavy, charged, but it doesn’t carry the same weight." Her voice faltered for just a second, a strange, almost awed tone slipping through.She straightened then, as if shaking herself from the memory, her demeanor shifting back to its usual sharpness. "But there’s something, a hint of the same essence in you, yes. Similar, but different." She stepped back slightly, her eyes briefly flicking over Korriva's form, as though comparing the lingering taste with the woman before her. "But don’t worry," Vivienne added, her voice dipping lower, laced with an undercurrent of something uncomfortably intimate. "You taste the best."

Her words hung in the air, heavy with implication, leaving a brief, taut silence between them. It wasn’t just a statement—it was a declaration, a claim of something visceral and undeniable. Vivienne knew her power, and now Korriva knew exactly what it meant to be tasted by her. To be something that stirred such hunger.

Korriva’s expression flickered for a moment, a shadow passing briefly across her face, but it was gone almost as quickly as it had appeared. It was a subtle shift, something too fleeting to be fully grasped, yet enough to betray that she was not entirely unaffected by Vivienne’s intense scrutiny. She held her composure, though, her posture unyielding, as if she were no stranger to such attention. But there was a pause—a beat that stretched just a fraction too long before she spoke again.

“Indeed.” Korriva’s voice was even, betraying none of the unease that might have lingered from their exchange. She took a step back and sheathed her blade with the ease of someone accustomed to the motion, the sharp sound of the metal sliding into its scabbard echoing in the otherwise still room. “Then that confirms at least one champion has fallen. Praxus has always held three champions, but they are weaker than the others.”

Vivienne’s curiosity piqued, her gaze fixed intently on Korriva. “Why is that?” she asked, the taste of the woman’s aether still fresh on her tongue, but the hunger for more beginning to rise again.

Korriva let out a quiet exhale, her eyes sharpening with the weight of the answer. “Because the gods are limited in how much potential they can grant to a champion. Praxus has always favored quantity over sheer strength, maintaining three champions to spread his influence far and wide. It has been a very effective strategy for him.” She paused, watching Vivienne as if gauging her reaction. “But there are consequences to such choices.”

Vivienne’s lips curled slightly, her thoughts aligning. “Ah, that’s why I was able to kill one,” she mused, more to herself than anyone else, as she worked through the implications of the revelation.

Korriva’s expression remained unreadable, but the faintest glimmer of acknowledgment crossed her features. “Considering your appointment... was it three months ago now?” she asked, her tone shifting just slightly, though still measured. “It is almost unbelievable that you managed to take down a seasoned champion. Alisaria may have been weaker than the champions of other gods, but you are still new to your power.”

Vivienne’s lips parted slightly, a dark gleam in her eyes as she tilted her head. “New?” She smiled, slow and deliberate. “I don’t need time to kill.”

Korriva’s gaze narrowed slightly, the weight of her words hanging in the air between them, heavy and unyielding. “I could end you with a thought,” she said, her voice low and unruffled, the confidence of someone who knew their own power intimately. “And many of the other champions are much the same.”

Vivienne’s eyes sparkled with a gleam that suggested no fear, no hesitation. Instead, she let out a soft, breathy laugh, the sound laced with something dangerous and almost intimate. She stepped forward slightly, her posture relaxed, even though the air around them had shifted into something much more charged.

“But you won’t,” Vivienne said, her voice smooth as silk, her smile spreading just a little wider, more predatory. “Because as far as I can tell, you’re a pragmatist, Korriva. You understand when something isn’t worth eliminating. And I’m not an active threat to your home nor your family.” She paused, her eyes gleaming in the low light. “I am, however, a self-admitted enemy to Praxus, therefore... a useful existence.”

The words hung between them like a thread pulled taut. There was no challenge in her voice, no bravado—just a clear and unwavering truth that seemed to pierce through the tense silence.

Korriva sighed, the sound carrying the weight of years of experience and contemplation. "You are smarter than I expected," she remarked, her voice a mix of begrudging respect and quiet admiration. She didn’t allow her gaze to falter, the high fang’s piercing eyes locked onto Vivienne’s as though she were weighing every word spoken.

Vivienne’s lips curved into a sly grin, her laughter soft but genuine. "Thank you for saying so, High Fang," she replied, her voice tinged with a playful yet appreciative edge. Her head tilted slightly, eyes narrowing just enough to show she was taking in the compliment, savoring it. “So, have I earned some trust yet?" Her words hung in the air, a calculated question, testing Korriva’s readiness to give her any measure of approval. "I presume letting me tag along with Rava on the last little quest was yet another test, yes?"

Korriva’s expression shifted just slightly, a thoughtful pause that lingered in the silence before she spoke again. "It was," she mused, the words coming out almost as an afterthought, but with enough weight to convey their truth. The imposing woman’s gaze softened only marginally as she considered Vivienne, the room filling with a quiet, contemplative air. “Would you like to join me for a drink? I have a few things I would like to discuss in detail.”

Vivienne’s response came with an effortless shrug, her demeanor as casual as ever. “My schedule is free for the foreseeable future,” she said with a relaxed tone, as though there were no better way to spend her time. Her smile flickered, faint but sharp at the edges, as she added, “I don’t see why not.”

Korriva let out a low, almost imperceptible chuckle, a sound that was both amused and mildly approving. "Most would fall over themselves for the honor," she commented, a wry smirk playing at the corners of her lips.