Mother of Midnight

Chapter 180 – Lets Start a War

Rava was right in her guess. They were summoned to the council room soon after, made to stand off to the side while the eight members argued with one another. The chamber was built to impress, with towering wooden beams carved in intricate patterns and a great table at its center, worn from decades of conflict and decision-making. A massive crest of the Drakthar clan loomed over the proceedings, its wolfish insignia a silent guardian over its leaders.

“They will ask for our surrender, like they always do,” said Skoll Tayse, her chiseled features set in what looked like a perpetual frown. Her arms were crossed, her expression unreadable save for the tired certainty in her tone.

“And we will decline, unless Vailora fails to show up,” Aeryn added sharply, her silver eyes hard. “They will not have our clanhome.”

“I agree.” The eldest son of Kaelvar, Darak, leaned forward, fingers steepled as he cast a glance toward Vivienne. “Though that brings us to the next issue.” His eyes narrowed, assessing her. “The High Fang said he had employed you to fight alongside us. Why?”

Vivienne casually strode forward, hips swaying with confidence, taking her sweet time before stopping at the center of the room. The glare she was getting from Aeryn was delightful.

“Because it was a good opportunity for me,” she said, voice dripping with amusement. “There will be so much food available. How could I resist?”

Darak grunted, his expression twisting in thinly veiled disgust. It was plain as day to Vivienne—he was trying to hide it, but his lips curled ever so slightly, his body tense like he had to force himself not to recoil.

“And what can you even do?” he asked, his skepticism thick in the air.

Vivienne grinned, her face splitting open from ear to ear, revealing rows upon rows of needle-like teeth. The brief flicker of unease in Darak’s eyes sent a delicious thrill through her.

“I can do many things, darling.”

Without further warning, she shifted.

Her body warped and expanded, shadows twisting as her form stretched outward. The room was suddenly full of her—six long, sinuous necks coiling around the council chamber, each crowned with a snarling, black-eyed head. Her hydra form was a writhing mass of obsidian scales and predatory hunger, pressing against the very limits of the space.

Her voices layered over one another, discordant and echoing. “I can change my shape at will.”

She let the moment linger, watching as some of the council members tensed, their instincts screaming at them to move, to run. Others stood their ground, but their grips on their weapons tightened.

Then, just as easily, she shrunk back down, her form collapsing into itself like shadows receding at dawn. She dusted off her hands as though nothing had happened.

“I can also summon creatures of shadow and glass,” she continued smoothly, her black eyes gleaming with mischief. “So long as I have a steady supply of aether, I can do it indefinitely.”

She let the silence settle, savoring the weight of their gazes on her. The flickering torchlight danced across wary expressions, but she only smiled.

“I see,” Darak said simply.

“I have a few other things I can do, but a lady should be allowed her secrets, no?” Vivienne’s voice dripped with amusement, her black eyes glinting.

That earned her little favor, which only made it funnier.

Kaelvar cleared his throat. “Yes, well, we have seen she is plenty capable. How are preparations on the walls?”

Aeryn stood. “Eastern wall is shored up and ready for battle. We do not expect much resistance, so I have focused efforts closer to the northern and southern sections, but they remain close enough to reinforce should we be attacked from behind.”

Darak stood as Aeryn took her seat. “The western section is ready. We have warriors manning the ballistae as well as two teams of steelbelchers stationed and prepared. Goblin artificers stand ready for repairs.”

Vivienne’s interest sharpened. Steelbelchers? That had to mean cannons. If it did, she was going to have to take a good look—goblin artifice always impressed her, and proper artillery only made them more interesting.

Kaelvar gave a nod and turned to Skol Tayse. She stood and spoke with crisp efficiency. “Southern wall is ready. Exomancers are stationed, and ballistae have been inspected and maintained.”

Then Skol Yanek stood, arms crossed, his voice weighted with concern. “The northern wall is lacking in supplies. We need more food and arrows to hold our position.”

Aeryn did not hesitate. “I can spare some from the eastern section.”

Vivienne leaned back, barely listening. Logistics were important, but she was already thinking ahead. Steelbelchers. If she had a chance, she was going to see them in action.

“Any other preparations needed on any section of the wall?” Kaelvar asked, his sharp gaze sweeping the room.

Silence. A few exchanged glances, but no one spoke up. Satisfied, Kaelvar gave a curt nod. “Then you are dismissed.”

Chairs scraped against the floor as the others rose and filed out, leaving only Rava and Vivienne behind. Kaelvar lingered, arms folded, his gaze shifting to Vivienne with a measured look.

“And what will you be doing?” he asked, his tone carefully neutral.

Vivienne tilted her head, her lips curling into a lazy smirk. “Not sure. Never took part in a war before.” She stretched, her tail flicking behind her. “Might go wherever the fighting is thickest. Might raid them in the night. Maybe both?” She let the words hang in the air, rolling one shoulder as if the thought was merely casual. “The more terror I can sow, the better.”

Kaelvar didn’t react immediately. His face remained unreadable, though there was a flicker of something behind his eyes—calculation, perhaps.

Rava snorted, crossing her arms. “Figures. You’d probably enjoy it, too.”

Vivienne met her gaze and grinned. “Sweetheart, I know I will.”

“I see,” Kaelvar said, exhaling a slow sigh before shaking his head. His expression remained unreadable, but there was a weight to his words. “I am needed elsewhere. Protect my clanhome.”

Vivienne tilted her head, amusement flickering across her face. “My daughter is here right now. That’s the biggest promise I can give you.”

It wasn’t a vow of loyalty, nor some grand assurance of duty—it was the truth. As long as Liora was here, this place mattered to her. That was more than most could ask for.

Kaelvar studied her for a moment, then gave a small nod. He understood what she meant. Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode out, his steps heavy with purpose.

Vivienne and Rava lingered for a breath before following suit, stepping out into the cold night air. The scent of woodsmoke and distant steel clung to the wind, and in the distance, the walls of the fortress stood firm—silent, waiting.

War was coming.

And Vivienne? She would be right in the thick of it.

As the sun crested the horizon, casting long golden rays over the land, Vivienne had already made her way to the top of the western wall. The wind was sharp against her skin, carrying the mingled scents of woodsmoke, damp stone, and steel. From this vantage point, she could see the enemy at last.

Even with her eyesight being nothing remarkable, the sheer mass of bodies in the distance was impossible to miss. The Aegis army moved like a living tide, banners rippling in the cold morning air, a sea of glinting armor stretching far beyond what she could count at a glance.

Twenty thousand.

It hadn’t sounded like much when she first heard the number. Just another statistic, something that paled in comparison to the unfathomable four hundred million souls in her original world's largest war. But seeing it now?

Twenty thousand was an overwhelming force.

The sheer scale of it put things into perspective. It was one thing to imagine a battlefield, to think in abstractions of tactics and formations. It was another to stare down the reality of twenty thousand soldiers prepared to kill and die in service of their cause.

Could she truly make a difference here?

Hundreds—yes, those she could tear through alone. Perhaps more, if she threw caution to the wind, embraced her monstrous potential, and took on one of her larger forms.

Her molten titan shape was the best suited for open warfare. Slow, yes, but heavily armored, brutally strong. Any wound inflicted would only spill lava, turning the battlefield into a deathtrap. Even the ground beneath her would be a hazard.

Her colossus form, on the other hand, was best reserved for darkness, where it could move unseen. Here, in the dawn’s light, it would be a target. Dawn exomancers would reduce it to nothing before it could cause meaningful damage.

That was the issue with most of her forms. They thrived in shadow, in confined spaces, against small groups. They weren’t made for full-scale battle, at least not as she was now.

Her fingers tapped absently against the stone, her mind racing with possibilities.

She hadn’t yet tested her shadow songbeasts in a real fight. She knew they could phase through walls, slip through defenses like ghosts. But could they phase through the ground?

The thought sent a wicked grin curling across her lips.

If they could, then their lack of brute strength wouldn’t matter. They could bypass the enemy’s frontline entirely, burrowing unseen beneath the battlefield and striking from below. An ambush force that emerged behind their ranks, disrupting formations, shattering lines. No need to even kill. Just provide distractions for the Drakthar forces.

Her grin widened.

She had options.

The problem was simple: she needed to eat while she fought. Sustaining herself in battle required flesh, and that meant she couldn't remain at a distance forever. She would have to dive into the fray, tear through whatever she could, and slip away before she was overwhelmed. The trick would be picking her moments—striking where the enemy was weakest, feasting when she could, and vanishing before retaliation came crashing down.

Night would be her best ally. If she could slip through the battlefield under the cover of darkness, raiding the edges of their encampment, she could disrupt their forces before the real fight began. It wouldn’t work for long—they would adjust, set traps, post guards—but for a time, she could be a phantom in the night.

The forest would be her shield. She could linger in the trees, let her song weave through the darkness, luring patrols away with whispers of something unnatural. If even a handful fell for the bait, that was fewer blades to meet the defenders when battle broke out.

An endless tide of crystal songbeasts would wear them down, clawing at their morale, keeping them restless, exhausted. Soldiers forced to fight shadows in the dead of night wouldn’t be at their best when the true assault came at dawn.

But that was only if they survived today.

Her gaze drifted beyond the horde of soldiers, settling on the figure looming behind them.

The dawn titan.

Even from this distance, she was unmistakable. Though smaller than Vailora had been, she still towered over the battlefield—more than twice the height of even Vivienne’s largest form. A being of golden plate, the dull glow of her skin radiating even through the morning light. Her face was partially obscured by a half-visor, giving her an air of cold detachment, something inhuman yet divine.

In her hands, she carried a strange weapon.

A spear, but not quite.

The blade at its tip was massive—almost as long as the shaft itself, a weapon that blurred the line between spear and sword. It was made for sweeping, carving through ranks like wheat before a scythe.

Vivienne's tail twitched, the obsidian scales along its length catching the dim light as it curled and uncurled in anticipation. A gnawing hunger coiled in her gut, one not just for food but for something deeper, something primal. She wanted to taste that titan’s flesh. Even the thought of it sent a shiver up her spine—part desire, part dread.

She knew it would be agony. Dawn aether didn’t mix well with her, burning through her insides like wildfire through a dry field. But it could still be consumed, if done carefully. Slowly. The pain would be worth it.

Not that it mattered. She was under no illusion that she could fight the dawn titan as she was now. That thing was built for war, and Vivienne wasn’t arrogant enough to believe she could stand against it directly—not yet. But weaknesses could be overcome. And hers? She had every intention of tearing it from herself, no matter how long it took.

Overhead, thick clouds churned, grey and heavy, threatening to spill snow over the battlefield. Even now, the warmth of the dawn exomancers along the walls held winter at bay, their presence warping the air, melting frost beneath their feet, drying stone where it should have been slick with ice. Their presence gnawed at her, a low, grating discomfort just at the edge of her senses, but it was tolerable.

Movement ahead caught her attention—a detachment splitting from the main force. A banner unfurled above them, a starburst of color that rippled in the frigid air. As expected, they were sending their messengers. A formal demand for surrender.

Vivienne narrowed her eyes, watching as they approached. The minutes stretched, the slow march of their envoy dragging on until, finally, they were close enough for details to emerge.

And there, at the forefront, stood a familiar figure.

Her stomach twisted into a knot.

Robes draped over armored shoulders, the fabric shifting with each measured step. Their face, as ever, was hidden behind a smooth metal plate, featureless but unmistakable.

The champion of Praxus.

The one who had stolen her prey.

“I am Entheris, Champion of Praxus. I wish to speak to your leader.”

The voice rang out, mechanical and cold, yet it carried effortlessly across the distance, a strange reverberation lacing its tone. A spell, no doubt, woven into the words to ensure they reached every ear on the wall.

Vivienne watched from her vantage point, her gaze locked on the champion. Even from here, she could see the unnatural stillness in their stance, the precise, calculated way they held themselves. There was no emotion in that voice, no passion—just unwavering conviction.

A few dozen meters to her left, Kaelvar stepped forward, his movements measured but firm. He pulled a wand from a leather strap fastened to his armor, the polished wood glinting faintly in the weak morning light. With practiced ease, he traced a pattern in the air, releasing a spell of his own.

“I am High Fang Kaelvar Drakthar,” his voice boomed, carried by the magic. “You will turn your forces away and leave.”

There was no hesitation in Entheris’ reply.

“We will not retreat,” the champion declared. “We will take this city, with or without your consent. There is no need for needless bloodshed. If you surrender, all in your city will be treated well.”

Vivienne nearly laughed. Treated well? The sheer audacity of it.

Kaelvar’s grip tightened around his wand, but his voice remained steady. “I know how your nation treats its people, Champion. My people will be collared and treated as lesser. Their freedoms stripped away, their beliefs smothered beneath the will of Praxus. We will not yield.”

“I do not wish to fight, High Fang,” Entheris replied, tone as hollow as ever. “The grace of Praxus is beneficial to all. He provides structure—order where there is chaos.”

“He brings rigid structure,” Kaelvar countered, his stance unshaken. “He prevents change. We will not be shackled. Yenhr is our goddess, and we will follow her to the last.”

A heavy silence followed, stretching long and thick as the storm clouds above. The weight of inevitability pressed against them, the quiet before the breaking of the storm.

“Nythara has seen the light of Praxus’ design,” Entheris declared, their metallic voice cutting through the frigid air. “Your walls will fall. Your armies will burn. Your leadership slaughtered. Please surrender.”

There was no malice in the words, no arrogance—just certainty, spoken as though it had already come to pass.

Kaelvar hesitated, just for a breath. Perhaps he was weighing his response, or perhaps it was the sheer absurdity of the request that gave him pause.

Then, his shoulders squared, and his grip on the wand firmed. “We will take our chances.”

Entheris inclined their head ever so slightly. “So be it.”

The air between them seemed to thrum with unspoken tension. No further words were exchanged. No grand declarations, no final pleas. The champion simply turned, the armored figures at their back shifting in unison as they began their slow, deliberate march away from the walls.

Vivienne exhaled through her nose, the scent of aether thick in the cold morning air.

There it was. The last opportunity for civility, turned away at the gate.

The war was beginning in earnest now.