Mother of Midnight

Chapter 157 – New Hunger

“Rava, I need you to put me down, sweetheart,” Vivienne said, her tone calm but firm, as she patted the lekine’s shoulder.

Rava blinked as if waking from a trance. “Right. Of course.” She hurriedly lowered Vivienne to the ground, her movements a little stiff.

As soon as Vivienne’s feet touched the snow, the girl’s sobbing began to subside. She shifted, sitting up shakily, her thin arms trembling as she braced herself against the cold ground. Her tear-streaked face was pale, and her wide, frightened eyes darted nervously between Rava and Vivienne.

When her gaze settled on Vivienne, her expression twisted with confusion and fear. “Wh-who are you?” she stammered, her voice shaking. “Why do you have so many eyes? And your claws—they’re so long. Are you going to hurt me?”

Vivienne crouched down slowly, lowering herself to the girl’s level. Her movements were deliberate and careful, her body language open and non-threatening. She rested her hands on her knees, her dark, claw-tipped fingers visible but kept far from the child.

“So many questions!” Vivienne said with a soft, disarming chuckle, her five black eyes shimmering with a gentle light. Her tone was warm and soothing, almost playful. “But first, let’s start with the most important one: do you really want to keep sitting in the snow naked, sweetheart? It’s cold enough to freeze your toes off.”

The girl blinked, startled by the question. Her wide eyes darted downward as if only now noticing her lack of clothing. Her cheeks flushed a deep red, and she quickly pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around herself in a futile attempt to cover up.

“Thought so,” Vivienne said with a knowing nod. She straightened and glanced over her shoulder. “Rava, could you grab a blanket for her?”

Rava, who had been watching the exchange with a wary expression, gave a short nod. “On it.” She turned and retrieved one of the thick wool blankets from their supplies.

Meanwhile, the girl’s gaze remained fixed on Vivienne, her expression a mix of awe and apprehension. Her small frame seemed to shrink further under the weight of her fear and uncertainty.

“Here,” Rava said, handing the blanket to Vivienne, who knelt again to drape it gently over the girl’s shoulders.

“There we go,” Vivienne murmured, tucking the edges of the blanket snugly around the child. “That’s a little better, isn’t it?”

The girl nodded hesitantly, clutching the blanket tightly around her thin body. Her gaze darted briefly to Rava before settling back on Vivienne. “Who… who are you?” she asked again, her voice barely above a whisper.

“My name’s Vivienne,” Vivienne replied, her tone light and reassuring. “And as for all this—” she gestured vaguely to her face and hands, her smile widening slightly. “Let’s just say I’m a bit special. But I promise you, I’m not here to hurt you.”

The girl frowned faintly, her brows knitting together. “Special?”

“Exactly.” Vivienne said with a wink. “But being special doesn’t make me bad. In fact, it means I can do some pretty useful things. Like making sure you’re safe.”

The girl’s lip trembled, and she ducked her head, her damp hair falling forward to hide her face. “Why… why are you helping me?”

Vivienne tilted her head, her expression softening. “Why wouldn’t I? You’re out here all alone in the cold, scared out of your mind. It wouldn’t be right to leave you like that, now would it?”

The girl didn’t respond immediately, her small hands twisting the blanket’s edge nervously. Finally, she whispered, “I don’t even know who I am…”

“That’s okay,” Vivienne said, her voice gentle. “We’ll figure it out together, one step at a time. For now, let’s just focus on warming you up and getting you something to eat. Sound good?”

The girl hesitated, then gave a small, tentative nod.

Vivienne brushed the snow off her knees, rising smoothly to her full, albeit modest, height. Her black eyes glimmered in the dim firelight as she cast a warm smile down at the girl. “Good. Now, let’s see about getting you warmed up properly.” She glanced over her shoulder and raised her voice. “Kivvy! How’s dinner coming along? This little one here’s going to need more than a blanket if she’s going to stop shaking.”

Kivvy, crouched by the fire and carefully rotating the spit of thornback meat, barely looked up. The flames danced in her sharp green eyes, highlighting her small but agile hands as they worked. She gave a casual shrug. “Should be ready soon. Couple more minutes to get it nice and crisp.”

“Perfect,” Vivienne replied, her tone light but filled with purpose. She turned her attention back to the girl, her clawed hand resting gently on the child’s thin shoulder. The claws were long and black, sharp enough to look menacing, but her touch was careful and comforting. “Come on, sweetheart,” she said softly, crouching slightly to meet the girl’s eyes. “Let’s get you closer to the fire while we wait. A little warmth and good food will have you feeling much better, okay?”

The girl nodded timidly, her blanket pulled tightly around her small frame. Her bare feet sank into the snow as she stood, but she barely seemed to notice, her focus remaining entirely on Vivienne. The firelight painted flickering patterns on the child’s pale, tear-streaked face as she followed closely behind.

Once by the fire, Vivienne guided the girl to sit down on a fur-lined mat near the blaze. The blanket pooled around her like a cocoon, and she instinctively drew her knees to her chest, watching the flames with wide, uncertain eyes.

Vivienne settled herself beside the girl, her movements smooth and deliberate as she folded her legs beneath her. Despite the lingering chill in the air, she appeared unfazed by the cold, her dark, scaled skin and layered clothing offering more than enough protection. She leaned forward slightly, her voice soft and inviting. “So,” she began, “do you remember your name, sweetheart?”

The girl hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. Her lips parted as though to speak, but no words came. Her brows furrowed, and a flicker of frustration crossed her face. Finally, she shook her head, her voice barely a whisper. “I… I don’t know.”

Vivienne’s expression didn’t waver, her smile steady and patient. “That’s okay,” she said gently. “Names aren’t something we’re born with, after all. If you can’t remember right now, it’s not the end of the world. We can figure it out together.”

The girl glanced up at her, her large, frightened eyes searching Vivienne’s face for reassurance. “But… shouldn’t I know? How can I not know who I am?” Her voice cracked slightly, the weight of her confusion and fear spilling into her words.

Vivienne reached out, her hand hovering for a moment before she lightly patted the girl’s head, careful not to startle her. “It’s alright, sweetheart,” she said softly. “Sometimes our memories take a little longer to catch up to us. Right now, you’re safe, and that’s what matters most. The rest will come in time.”

The girl nodded slowly, her gaze falling back to the fire. The flickering flames danced in her wide, glossy eyes, casting fleeting shadows across her face. For a moment, the trembling in her small frame stilled as the warmth began to seep into her body, chasing away the cold that clung to her like a second skin.

Now that Vivienne had a chance to study her more closely, certain details about the girl stood out—details that felt both eerily unfamiliar and disturbingly familiar. Her eyes, for instance, were pitch black, void-like in their intensity. There were no whites or irises, just an endless darkness that seemed to draw in the light of the fire.

Her small hands rested on her lap, fingers curling slightly against the coarse fabric of the blanket. The girl’s fingernails caught the light, revealing their unnerving texture. They were not quite claws, but they were long and unnaturally hard, their edges sharp enough to suggest something more primal than human.

Vivienne’s gaze drifted to the girl’s face. Along her pale cheeks ran faint ridged lines, almost too subtle to notice without the fire’s soft glow highlighting them. Below each of her black eyes lay closed slits, rimmed with fine, dark lashes, hinting at something hidden beneath—a feature that was uncomfortably familiar.

Her skin, while lighter than Vivienne’s, bore a similarly unnatural hue. It was a pale grey, muted and cold, like the color of an overcast sky just before a storm broke. It lacked the healthy flush of human skin, as if it had been drained of life and vitality.

Vivienne tilted her head slightly, her mind racing as she pieced together the uncanny resemblance. The details were subtle but undeniable. This child, in some inexplicable way, carried traces of her own form—distorted echoes of her unique traits.

The girl shifted uncomfortably under Vivienne’s scrutiny, her fingers curling tighter into the fabric of the blanket. “Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Vivienne blinked, snapping herself out of her thoughts. She softened her expression, offering the girl a reassuring smile. “Sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to stare. I was just thinking how strong you are to handle all of this.”

The girl hesitated, her small shoulders curling inward as though she were trying to fold into herself. She gave a small nod, her gaze drifting back to the fire. The orange and gold light danced across her pale, gray skin, casting long, flickering shadows that seemed almost alive. Her voice was soft, barely louder than the crackle of the flames. “I don’t feel very strong,” she murmured, her tone heavy with doubt.

Vivienne crouched slightly to meet the girl’s eyes, her expression warm and inviting. The sharpness of her claws and the faint gleam of her otherworldly features were softened by the kindness in her gaze. “Oh, but you are!” Vivienne said softly, her voice brimming with sincerity. “Think about it—this is a scary place, sweetheart. We’re out here in the cold, surrounded by things most people wouldn’t even want to imagine.” She gestured gently to herself with one clawed hand. “And I know I look… well, let’s just say I’m not exactly the cuddliest creature, am I?”

The faintest smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she tried to lighten the mood. “Yet here you are, sitting by this fire, talking to me. That takes a special kind of bravery, I think.”

The girl blinked up at Vivienne, her dark, void-like eyes wide and searching. She seemed to weigh the words carefully, her small fingers fidgeting with the edges of the blanket wrapped around her. “I don’t think you’re very scary,” she mumbled, her voice so quiet it was almost lost in the crackle of the fire.

Vivienne’s breath hitched, caught off guard by the unexpected response. Her eyes softened even further, and she chuckled lightly, a sound rich with affection. “You don’t, hmm?” She placed a gentle hand on the girl’s shoulder, her claws carefully tucked away to avoid scratching her. “Well, that’s one of the nicest things anyone’s said to me in a long time.”

The girl shrugged, her small shoulders rising slightly under the weight of the blanket, a hint of a shy smile creeping onto her lips. Her void-black eyes flicked up to meet Vivienne’s, and her voice came hesitantly, almost like she was testing the words. “You’re… different, but not scary. I think you’re nice.”

Vivienne tilted her head, the crystalline sheen of her horns catching the firelight, making her seem all the more ethereal. Her black eyes softened, and she let out a quiet laugh that carried both warmth and an ache she couldn’t quite place. “Well, aren’t you a sweetheart,” she said, her tone gentle and tinged with emotion. “And you’re very cute yourself. You’ve got a little spark in you—I can see it.”

The girl’s cheeks darkened, and though her skin was pale gray, the blush was unmistakable. It wasn’t the pink flush of a human, but a deep, shadowy hue that spread across her cheeks, not unlike Vivienne’s rare moments of flustered embarrassment. She ducked her head slightly, hiding her small smile behind the edge of the blanket.

Vivienne chuckled softly at the sight. “Ah, there it is. A blush just like mine. Makes me feel a little less alone out here in the big, scary wilderness.” She reached out and gave the girl’s shoulder a gentle pat, her claws curling carefully inward to avoid causing any discomfort.

The girl peeked up at her, still smiling faintly, but her expression soon turned curious and a little uncertain. “Do you… really think I have a spark?”

Vivienne nodded firmly, leaning in just a little as if sharing a secret. “Oh, absolutely. It takes someone special to face all of this and still sit here by the fire with me. Trust me, you’ve got something special in you. We just have to figure out what it is.”

The girl seemed to mull that over for a moment, her eyes drifting back to the fire as the flames reflected in their dark depths. Then, she turned to Vivienne again, tilting her head slightly.

“Well, if you can’t remember your name, how about we give you one for now?” Vivienne asked, her voice bright with a hint of playfulness, though her expression remained kind.

The girl hesitated, her small hands gripping the blanket tightly as though it might offer her some answer. After a moment, she nodded slowly. “Okay.”

Vivienne’s smile widened, the warmth of it lighting up her features. She leaned back slightly, resting her hands on her knees as she studied the girl thoughtfully. “Hmm, let’s see… we’ll need something fitting. Something strong, just like you. Any ideas, or should I pick for you?”

The girl’s brows furrowed slightly in concentration as she considered. “I don’t know. I think… maybe you should pick. I’m not very good at names.”

Vivienne tapped a clawed finger against her chin, her gaze flicking briefly to the fire before settling back on the girl. “Fair enough. Let me think for a moment. Something simple, but meaningful…”

Kivvy, who had been quietly tending the fire nearby, glanced over with a smirk. “You’re gonna overthink it. Just call her something that feels right.”

Vivienne rolled her eyes playfully at the goblin before returning her focus to the girl. “Alright, let’s not make this a grand debate. How about…” She paused, then grinned softly. “Liora. It means ‘light.’ Seems fitting, doesn’t it? A little spark to chase away the dark.”

The girl’s eyes widened slightly, and she repeated the name under her breath. “Liora.” She tried it out again, her lips curling into a small smile as she said it a second time. “Liora. I… I like it.”

“Good,” Vivienne said, her smile growing. “Liora it is, then. Welcome to the team, Liora.”

The girl—Liora—nodded, her smile shy but genuine now. For the first time, she seemed to sit a little straighter, the weight of uncertainty lifting just a bit.

Vivienne reached over and gently ruffled the girl’s dark hair, earning a small giggle. “See? We’re already making progress. Now let’s get you fed and warm, and then we’ll figure out what to do next.”

Liora nodded again, her small hand reaching out to grasp the edge of Vivienne’s sleeve. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible but full of sincerity.

Vivienne patted her hand gently, her expression softening even further. “Anytime, sweetheart. We’ll figure this out together.”

Kivvy ladled steaming cuts of thornback meat into bowls and handed one to the little girl with a sharp nod. “Eat up. It’s fresh, and we don’t waste food out here,” the goblin said curtly, her tone more matter-of-fact than unkind.

Liora hesitated, her small hands gripping the bowl awkwardly as she stared down at the chunks of meat. The rich, savory aroma wafted up to her, yet her expression wavered between curiosity and discomfort. Slowly, she picked up a piece with her fingers, sniffing it tentatively. Her nose wrinkled, and after a moment’s hesitation, she brought it to her mouth and bit down.

The reaction was immediate. Liora’s face twisted into a mask of revulsion, her features contorting as she gagged and spat the morsel out onto the snow beside her. “Eugh!” she cried, shuddering as if the taste had physically hurt her.

Kivvy’s sharp eyebrows shot up. “What’s the matter with you?” she asked, her tone a mix of confusion and irritation. “That’s perfectly good meat! People would kill for a meal like that!”

“I-I don’t know!” Liora stammered, clutching her stomach as though the very thought of eating it churned her insides. “It just… tastes wrong. Bad. Like it’s not… food.” She looked up at the others with wide, tearful eyes, clearly afraid that her reaction had offended them.

Vivienne crouched beside her, her dark eyes soft with concern. “Sweetheart, it’s all right,” she said gently, placing a hand on Liora’s shoulder. “If it doesn’t sit right with you, you don’t have to eat it.”

“But I’m hungry…” Liora whispered, glancing down at the untouched bowl in her lap.

“That’s… odd,” Rava muttered, her golden eyes narrowing as she exchanged a glance with Kivvy. “Vivienne, she has your… features. Are you sure she’s not like you?”

Vivienne frowned, studying Liora more closely. The girl’s pitch-black eyes shimmered faintly in the firelight, and the subtle ridges along her cheeks seemed almost too smooth, too refined—like something crafted rather than grown. Her fingernails, too, gleamed faintly like polished obsidian, their edges unnervingly sharp.

Vivienne tapped a clawed finger against her chin, her dark eyes narrowing thoughtfully. The firelight danced across her features, casting fleeting shadows over her ridged cheeks and crystalline horns. “My guess,” she said slowly, “is that she can only feed on fear-laced aether.” Her voice carried a hint of reluctance, as though she didn’t want to say the words aloud.

Rava stiffened, her golden eyes flashing with a mix of curiosity and caution. “Fear-laced aether? You’re sure about that?”

Vivienne shrugged, her clawed finger tapping against her chin in a thoughtful rhythm before she let her hand drop. Her dark eyes glinted in the firelight as she spoke. “I’m not sure, no. But it fits, doesn’t it? The way she rejected the thornback meat, and believe me, that stuff holds onto its aether even after it’s cooked. I’ve eaten it plenty of times.”

Rava frowned, her expression hardening as she folded her arms across her chest. The tension in her posture mirrored the unease in her voice. “Then what do we do? We’re far from civilization, and out here…” She gestured to the dark, endless expanse of the snowy plains around them, her frustration evident.

Before Vivienne could respond, a small voice interrupted. “Am I in trouble?”

The three of them turned to see Liora sitting by the fire, her black eyes wide and filled with worry. The flames cast flickering shadows across her pale, ridged face, and her small hands fidgeted nervously in her lap.

“Of course not, sweetheart,” Vivienne said softly, her voice warm and soothing as she crouched beside the girl. She reached out and placed a gentle hand on Liora’s shoulder, her claws carefully curved away so they wouldn’t scrape. “We’re just trying to figure out how to get you something to eat, that’s all. You’re not in trouble, I promise.”

Liora’s gaze flicked between Vivienne and the others, her tension easing slightly at the reassurance.

Straightening up, Vivienne turned back to Rava and Kivvy, her tone more serious now. “I don’t want to turn back yet—not until we’ve done what we came here to do. So that leaves us with two options. Either we need to find some… ‘volunteers,’ or one of you might have to risk a bad night’s sleep.”

Rava didn’t hesitate. “I’ll do it.” Her voice was firm, resolute, even as her golden eyes betrayed the weight of the decision. “I can push through it if needed. It’s not the first time I’ve dealt with exhaustion.”

Vivienne tilted her head, her expression unreadable for a moment before she spoke. “Do you really think that’s wise, sweetheart? You, exhausted, out here in the wastes, surrounded by who knows what?”

“No,” Rava admitted, her lips pressing into a tight line. “But I don’t see another way around it. If she can only eat fear-laced aether, someone’s got to provide it, and there’s no one else for leagues.”

Kivvy, who had been quietly tending to the fire, looked up and scowled. “Hold on a second. You’re just going to let her feed off your nightmares? That’s risky as hell, Rava. What if it’s not just a bad night? What if it leaves you too drained to fight if something comes at us?”

Rava met Kivvy’s gaze, unflinching. “I’ll manage. We can’t let the kid starve.”

Vivienne sighed, her tail flicking behind her in irritation. “You’re both right. It’s risky, and I don’t like it. But unless we stumble across a pack of people or animals willing to play the part, I don’t see a better option either.”

The tension hung heavy in the air as the three of them exchanged glances. Liora, who had been listening silently, finally spoke up again, her voice small but determined. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Vivienne wrapped an arm around the girls shoulders and pulled her close, her gaze softening as she met the girl’s eyes. “You’re not hurting anyone, sweetheart. We’re making a choice because we care about you, okay? You don’t need to carry that burden.”

Liora nodded hesitantly, though the guilt lingering in her expression didn’t fully fade.

Kivvy groaned, throwing her hands up. “Fine. If we’re doing this, let’s at least make it as safe as possible. Maybe Vivienne can act as a buffer or something? I don’t know how your feeding works, but you’re more likely to know than we are.”

It felt good to be free again. No, not good—exquisite. Liberating. Like stretching stiff limbs after an eternity confined, like tasting the first breath of air after drowning. The world had changed, as it always did, shifting and twisting while it had remained sealed away. The lands were different, the skies unfamiliar, and the people? Oh, the people. New faces. New voices. New souls to devour.

It had forgotten the ecstasy of it. The way essence unraveled beneath its touch, the way screams rang like music when it swallowed something whole. The gods had bound it away for so long that even pain had been preferable to nothingness. And yet, one day, for reasons unknown, its prison had cracked. Just a fracture, just a splinter in the divine chains that held it.

It was enough.

It pressed itself through the fractures, squeezed through the smallest gaps in its cage, until it spilled forth into the waking world once more. Unshackled. Unbound.

And not long after, it found something interesting.

Something wrong.

Something amazing.

A soul, but not like the others. It had tasted countless before—strong souls, weak souls, corrupted souls—but this one? This one was touched. By what, it did not know. It had never felt something quite like this.

An anomaly. A deviation. A puzzle.

It had to have it.

It followed the soul, shadowing it like a specter unseen.

It watched. It listened. It hungered.

It then revealed itself as a child, taunting its prey before disappearing into the night once more.

The anomaly was new. New to the realm, new to its strength, new to the weight of the power it carried. So much potential, yet still raw, still unrefined. It burned bright, but the flame was weak, flickering in the wind. A fragile ember that could be snuffed out too soon if it was careless.

No, no. Not yet.

There was no need to harvest before its time, no need to cull the wheat before it had grown tall and golden. A weak soul was like unripe fruit—bitter, unsatisfying, wasted. It had learned patience in the long, endless void of its prison. It had learned to wait.

And so, it would let the soul bloom.

It would watch as it struggled, as it fought, as it bled. It would let it grow, let it ripen, let it become something exquisite.

Yes, yes, that was the way.

A soul seasoned by time, by hardship, by battle—it would be divine. There was music in pain, a melody in the breaking of a spirit, a crescendo in the moment when hope teetered on the edge of despair. That was what made a feast worth devouring. That was what made a soul delicious.

And this one? This one had all the makings of a masterpiece.

It stayed in the shadows, unseen but ever-present, a whisper on the wind, a chill down the spine. It had no true form, no shape that bound it, nothing but the vast emptiness of its hunger. When the soul moved, it followed. When it rested, it lingered just out of reach, watching.

Waiting.

Its patience was limitless.

Let the soul think itself safe. Let it grow comfortable. Let it taste victory, even as the jaws of fate edged closer around its throat. It would let it thrive, let it flourish, let it become something greater than what it was now.

And then, when the moment was perfect—when the soul had reached its peak, when it burned at its brightest, when it thought itself strong enough to stand against the world—

It would be time to feast.

For nothing could get between the emissary and its meal.