Mother of Midnight

Chapter 202 – I Swear On My Blood

It had been a long two weeks, traveling from the frozen northeast to the nearly equally frigid south west, where the capital of Aegis lay buried beneath a heavy blanket of snow. The cold was relentless, though not as harsh as the bitter winds of his homeland. Here, the winter was not a season but a way of life—perpetual and unyielding.

Caelum’s newfound strength made the journey easier, though not comfortable. Aetherbeasts that once would have been mortal threats now crumbled beneath his blade, their essence little more than fuel for his growing power. Yet for all his victories, the weight of his task pressed upon him like the storm-laden sky above.

His goddess had given him clear direction—the city, the church, where his target was being held. But getting inside? That required planning. He was no thief, no assassin. The memories of that night, when he had bathed his hands in blood and fire, proved as much. Stealth was not his talent.

So he needed a disguise.

The clergy moved freely throughout the city, protected by their station, unnoticed by the masses. If he could get his hands on a priest’s robes, he could slip past the guards and into the heart of their domain.

But that meant finding one. And that meant taking it.

When he arrived, he couldn’t help but be awed by the city, despite knowing it was the heart of his enemy’s empire. Aegis was a fortress carved into the bones of the earth itself, its tiered structure rising like a great monument to human ambition. Built into the side of a massive hill, its foundations ran deep, with layers upon layers of stone and mortar stacked over generations. It looked ancient, as though it had always been here, as immovable as the mountain it clung to.

The lowest tier was almost entirely obscured by the sheer magnitude of the wall before him—a towering barrier of bleached stone, its surface smooth and unyielding, untouched by time or war. It loomed overhead, a silent warning to all who approached. Even from here, he could see the faint shimmer of aetheric reinforcement woven into its structure, a testament to the power the church wielded.

Beyond it, glimpses of the city peeked through the towering gates. Narrow streets wound upward in a spiraling path, lined with structures of dark stone and heavy timber, their rooftops weighed down by thick blankets of snow. Smoke curled from chimneys, mixing with the evening mist, and in the distance, higher still, he could make out the gilded spires of the great cathedral, the very place he needed to reach.

His breath curled in the frigid air as he stood before the gates, heart pounding. He would have to move carefully. Here, in the capital, the eyes of Praxus were everywhere.

Inside, the city was just as breathtaking as it was imposing. Even in the depths of winter, it pulsed with life, a bustling metropolis that defied the season’s chill. The streets teemed with people wrapped in thick wool and fur, moving about their business as if the cold were merely an inconvenience rather than an obstacle. The warmth of braziers and street vendors' fires dotted the roads, adding a flickering glow to the ever-moving tide of bodies.

For Caelum, this was a gift. A city this crowded, this full of motion, made it easy to disappear, to slip into the current and become just another traveler among thousands. He pulled his cloak tighter around himself, keeping his head slightly bowed, letting the press of the crowd swallow him whole.

The architecture was an interesting mix—wood and stone, built for function rather than beauty. Cheap, perhaps, but not poorly made. The structures had the worn sturdiness of a city built to endure, a place that had weathered generations of storms and sieges alike. Some buildings bore newer repairs, patches of fresh stone where cracks had formed, places where time or battle had left their mark. Others had layers upon layers of additions, as though the city had been built atop itself over centuries.

Still, he needed more than just a place to blend in. He needed a base of operations, somewhere near his target.

The journey upward took time. The roads twisted like a labyrinth, and though he stopped people for directions, their answers weren’t always clear. The locals had their own way of navigating, referring to landmarks that meant nothing to him, pointing in vague directions before disappearing into the sea of bodies. He found himself doubling back more than once, frustration simmering beneath his skin as the unfamiliar streets tested his patience.

Finally, he reached the second gate.

The wall here was even taller than the first, its stone smooth from centuries of maintenance. Above the gate, halfway up the structure, massive wooden platforms jutted out—siege platforms, no doubt, meant to rain death upon invaders should the lower tier ever fall. The sheer thought of such a defense implied that it had been needed before. Aegis was no stranger to war.

Approaching the guards, he kept his movements steady, his expression carefully neutral. He reached into his cloak and produced the crest—the flash of gold catching the torchlight. A symbol of the church, taken from his former mentor before he’d left. A lie, but a convincing one.

The guards barely looked at him before stepping aside. No questions. No suspicion. Just a nod and a gesture to pass.

He exhaled slowly as he stepped through.

Vivienne immediately collapsed into a shapeless, writhing mass, just as the door to the laboratory creaked open. The moment her form twisted back into a state deemed suitably monstrous, she went still, watching. Listening.

How long had she been here? There were no windows, no clocks, nothing to mark the passage of time save for the routines of the people who came and went. Days blurred into one another, indistinguishable. Perhaps it had been weeks. A month. Longer.

She could endure. She had endured worse. But Liora? That thought gnawed at her. The girl had to be strong. Had to hold on. Vivienne would only have one chance to get this right.

The pattern of her days remained unchanged—until something shifted. It was late when the new arrival appeared. Another member of the clergy, but not like the others. They rotated in and out, all of them bearing the same arrogance, the same self-importance. But this one… this one was different.

She tasted it before she even saw him. Even through the barrier, the flavor of his aether was unmistakable. A champion.

Her mouths watered at the thought of sinking her teeth into his flesh. She forced the hunger down. Not yet.

What was strange was that none of the others acknowledged his presence. She had seen how they fawned over Zerathiel—how they treated him with reverence, respect, and that delicious undercurrent of fear. But this man? It was as if they didn’t even know he was there.

A lion among cattle.

She did not miss how his presence alone disrupted the pattern. He arrived long after everyone had left for the night. The only noise in the darkness..

Vivienne remained motionless, save for the faint undulation of her form.

The flesh of a champion. It would be invaluable. Their bodies were steeped in divine power, and to consume one would be to claim a piece of it for herself. The strength. The rush of it. The taste.

She had to stop herself from licking her lips.

The man stepped closer to the barrier, his golden-hazel eyes scanning her, appraising. His posture was relaxed, unafraid.

"Can you speak?"

Vivienne bared her teeth, let out a guttural snarl, and let the noise slip into a low, animalistic growl. Let him think her some mindless beast.

The champion sighed, rubbing at his temple. “I am looking for Akhenna’s champion,” he said evenly. “If you are her, I will free you.”

Vivienne stilled.

Yes, another champion would be invaluable in her escape. A tool, a shield, a means to an end. But revealing herself now carried risks. She had worked too hard, been too careful. If he was lying—if this was a trap—she would have wasted everything.

But she could also break this prison and eat the man before her.

The thought lingered, tempting.

She took a slow breath. No, she would take a chance.

“I can,” she murmured, her voice a low, guttural growl.

The champion’s shoulders loosened, relief flashing across his golden-hazel eyes. “I will help you escape. Most of the clergy is gone, so now is the best time.”

Vivienne tilted her head, studying him. His posture, the slight tension in his jaw, the careful way he measured his words.

She was not about to follow blindly.

“I have some questions first, champion,” she said smoothly.

His brows furrowed, and then—hesitation. A flicker of confusion.

“H-how did you know?” he asked.

Ah. He was new. He had not yet met another like himself, had not yet learned how their kind could taste one another in the aether.

She smirked, letting the silence stretch just long enough for discomfort to set in. “Questions first.”

He gulped, nodding stiffly.

“Who do you belong to?”

The hesitation was there again, so slight most wouldn’t catch it. But Vivienne wasn’t most.

“I am the champion of Yenhr.”

Ah. The Lady of Dawn. A goddess of light, of warmth, of growth. What would she want with a creature of the night?

Vivienne’s lips curled, sharp and humorless. “Why did she send you after me?”

“I… I am not sure.” He shifted, uncertainty flashing in his gaze. “It was simply the task I was given.”

“Blind faith, is it?” She tsked. “How devoted.”

His jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

Vivienne prowled closer, pressing against the invisible barrier between them. “Why should I trust you?” she asked, her voice lilting, teasing, dangerous. Her black eyes flicked to the emblem on his robes. “You wear the mark of Praxus. You walk among their ilk.”

His breath hitched. “I-I don’t have any reason I can give, but I am not on their side,” he said quickly, a little too quickly. His voice lifted with urgency, too loud. “Sorry,” he added, taking a step back. He rubbed a hand through his golden hair, exhaling sharply. “I’ve been through a lot to get here. I have no love for them or their vile experiments. I’ve lost too much to them already.”

Sincerity. A flicker of real emotion beneath the fear.

Good. A desperate man was a useful one.

“Last question,” she purred, her voice dipping low. “And the most important one.”

The champion swallowed, waiting.

“Will you help me save my daughter first?”

Silence.

A pause, deep and heavy.

Then—

His expression shifted. A flicker of something unreadable crossed his features, but it was gone before she could grasp it.

“…Your daughter?”

Vivienne’s claws flexed. “Yes.”

His throat bobbed. His grip tightened at his sides.

And then, with a steadiness she hadn’t expected, he nodded.

“Yes.”

"Good enough for me," Vivienne purred.

She moved without hesitation, her form unraveling in a wave of black mass, shifting and expanding. Her body surged outward, her shadow swallowing the dim glow of the lanterns. The sheer weight of her hydra form bore down upon the invisible barrier—except, to her amusement, there was barely any resistance. The prison shattered like brittle glass beneath her power, fragments of glowing runes fizzling out in the air.

The champion staggered back, eyes wide as her monstrous shape loomed over him.

Vivienne relished the sight of his alarm, but she had no time to bask in it. In the next breath, her form twisted again, limbs compressing, flesh remolding. She reshaped herself into the likeness of Priestess Uuna, her features flawless, indistinguishable from the real thing. Her dress, unfortunately, was amazing and carried over even to this form. She would need to find some robes to disguise herself with.

The golden-haired man was staring, his face torn between wariness and something closer to horror.

Vivienne smiled, though not as wide as she would have liked. Already, she missed her usual shape—the weight of her tail, the prickle of her scales, the comfort of her many eyes.

Still, this would do.

"You know," she mused, stepping toward him with deliberate slowness, "I’m tempted to eat you here and now."

His breath hitched.

Vivienne tilted her head, watching his every reaction, letting the moment stretch. "Your power would be a boon for me."

She could practically taste the tension in the air.

Vivienne laughed, a rich, melodious sound that filled the dimly lit space. It was lighthearted—mocking, even—but beneath it, there was something sharper. A promise. A warning.

She would throw the man a bone. She would be collecting many more tonight, after all.

"Can’t take a joke, Sir Champion?" she teased, her voice dripping with amusement.

The man hesitated, his golden-hazel eyes flickering with something between uncertainty and resolve. "Caelum," he corrected.

Vivienne's grin widened. "Bless you."

He blinked, clearly caught off guard. "No," he said after a beat, "that is my name." He exhaled, steadying himself, then squared his shoulders. "May I at least have yours?" His gaze lingered on her, cautious, searching.

She regarded him for a moment, then finally gave a slow, deliberate nod.

"Vivienne."

Caelum seemed to relax—if only slightly. He inclined his head with practiced politeness. "Then it is a pleasure to meet you."

Vivienne chuckled, stepping closer. She let the words hang in the air, savoring the fleeting peace between them before she shattered it.

"Oh, you’ll be changing your mind about that very soon."

The man looked uncertain, but he let out a sigh. “We should leave, we do not have too much time.”

She nodded. “Then lead the way, Sir Champion. I was in a mindless rage when they brought me in here, so I don’t know the way.”

The golden haired man nodded, and Vivienne followed behind. She would need something to wear over her dress, so kept her eyes and ears out for anyone still in the facility.

The hallways stretched endlessly before them, dimly lit by flickering sconces mounted on the cold stone walls. The scent of incense and aged parchment hung heavy in the air, mingling with the faint metallic tang of blood—subtle, but present. A place of worship, of research, of horrors.

As they passed a corridor, a voice rang out, sharp and familiar.

"Priestess Uuna!"

Vivienne and Caelum froze for the briefest moment before she pivoted smoothly, stepping back around the corner with the cold precision expected of the woman she now impersonated. She was greeted by a tall, lithe man, his eyes narrowing slightly as they landed on her.

"Yes?" she answered coolly, allowing no emotion to slip into her voice. Mimicking Uuna’s cadence was almost second nature by now—she had spent enough time listening to the woman, enough time twisting her own vocal cords to match.

The man’s gaze flicked over her, lingering on the thin, dark slip of fabric she wore. His brow arched. "I wasn’t expecting you in this late." A pause. His expression shifted into something more skeptical. "And what, exactly, are you wearing?"

Vivienne let out an exasperated sigh, as if the question itself was beneath her. "It was meant only for my husband’s eyes, but necessity called," she replied, letting an irritated edge creep into her tone. "High Priest Kaelen summoned me. The barrier around the larger specimen was weakening at an alarming rate. I had to be called in to ensure containment."

Beside her, Caelum stiffened almost imperceptibly. She caught the flicker of surprise in his expression—clearly, he hadn’t expected how effortlessly she could lie. She ignored him.

The man blinked, his earlier scrutiny vanishing, replaced with understanding. "Ah. I see. My apologies, Priestess."

"It is no trouble." She waved a hand dismissively. "What did you need of me?"

"Ah, yes. I wanted to inform you that the samples taken from the smaller specimen are finally starting to bear fruit."

Vivienne’s fingers twitched. The urge to rip his throat out surged within her, hot and violent. He was talking about Liora. About her child. Calling her a specimen. A test subject. A thing.

But she did not react.

She forced herself to hum thoughtfully, as if the matter were purely academic. "Mmm. That has been something of a roadblock as of late. I would like to examine the progress myself." The words felt like poison in her mouth, but she swallowed them down. It was all for Liora.

"Of course, Priestess."

The man turned, and Vivienne followed without hesitation, her stride confident and deliberate. She didn’t glance back at Caelum, though she could feel him trailing just behind her.

As they moved deeper into the halls, the man’s curiosity was not yet sated.

"And who is the man with you?"

Vivienne did not hesitate. "This is Dullahan. He often retrieves samples for me."

"A collector, then?" The man nodded in approval, as if that were something respectable. "Well met, Dullahan."

Caelum merely gave a stiff nod in acknowledgment.

The hallways seemed to stretch on endlessly, winding through the depths of the cathedral’s underbelly. They passed few people on their way, but those they did encounter gave Vivienne a respectful nod before quickly averting their eyes. No one questioned her presence. No one questioned her companion.

Good.

Vivienne forced herself to breathe evenly, to remain composed, even as her nails bit into her palms. The scent of blood was getting stronger. The further they walked, the closer they were to Liora.

"The specimen has become more compliant as of late," the priest droned on, oblivious to the rage simmering beneath Vivienne’s cold exterior. "It doesn’t resist when we take samples from it. It hasn’t moved much in the past week, though."

Oh, she was going to eat this man.

Vivienne kept her expression placid, but inside, the hunger coiled tighter, wrapping around her like an old, familiar embrace. It would be easy—so easy—to tear his throat out where he stood. Maybe she’d drag her claws down his ribs, peeling his flesh in slow, deliberate strips. Maybe she’d listen to the way his screams turned wet and gurgling as she sank her teeth into his stomach and—

No.

She exhaled quietly, suppressing the urge. Not here. Not yet. If she was going to kill him, it had to be clean. A fast snack, nothing more. No savoring, no games. And she would need to get him out of those robes first. Wouldn’t do to stain them with blood.

"Very good," she murmured, just the barest modicum of approval in her voice.

The priest puffed up slightly, pleased with himself, as if he were reporting the successful training of a dog instead of speaking about her child.

Vivienne’s nails dug into her palm.

They arrived at another room, and the priest stepped forward, unlocking the heavy door with a soft click. He pushed it open and gestured for her to enter. Vivienne stepped inside, Caelum following a beat later.

Her breath hitched.

She caught herself before she could react, before she could let the rage and grief spill through the carefully constructed mask of Priestess Uuna. But oh, her darling, her sweet girl—

Liora sat curled in the farthest corner of the cage, her knees drawn to her chest, her tiny arms wrapped around herself. The dim light cast her in pale shadow, making her seem smaller than she already was. Her eyes—those warm, bright eyes that once overflowed with mischief and laughter—were dull, lifeless. She did not look up at them, did not stir at their presence.

Vivienne clenched her jaw so tightly she thought her teeth might crack.

Behind her, the priest shut the door with a hollow thud.

"It has been despondent for the past two weeks," he continued, oblivious. "It no longer resists us."

Vivienne’s vision swam red.

She turned her head slightly, just enough to keep her expression in check, but inside, every fiber of her being screamed for violence.

I will make you resist, she thought. I will make you scream.

“You’ve done well,” said Vivienne, the three most painful words she had ever spoken.

The priest bowed deeply, as if the weight of her fabricated approval was a benediction. “You honor me, High Priest Prospect Priestess Uuna.”

She despised him.

“I think you might be due for a reward.” Her smile was subtle, restrained, a mere twitch at the corner of her lips. Uuna was not an expressive woman, and Vivienne had spent enough time in her presence to imitate her chilling detachment.

The priest blinked, clearly taken aback. “I am not worthy, Priestess!” He said in surprise, though she saw the faint flicker of excitement behind his eyes. The eagerness of a man accustomed to power, to privilege, to being favored.

He was even more surprised when her hand shot forward, talons closing around his throat before he could so much as gasp. His breath cut off with a wet croak, his hands scrabbling at her wrist. The moment his fingers brushed against her skin, she changed.

Her flesh rippled, shifted, mouths forming like blooming ulcers across her palm, their needle-like teeth pressing into his skin. Dozens of them, small and hungry, biting deep. A rattling wheeze forced its way from his lips as she squeezed, her claws pressing into the meat of his throat until something popped.

No more sound.

His eyes bulged. His fingers spasmed uselessly against her grip, legs kicking in feeble protest.

She surged forward, her body unraveling into a fluid mass of dark, glistening flesh. It swallowed him whole, slipping beneath the fabric of his robes, seeping into every crevice, every gap, until she enveloped him entirely. His muffled, weakening struggles lasted only a moment longer before they ceased altogether.

She drank him down. Flesh, blood, and brittle bone dissolved beneath her touch, pulled into her being, absorbed as easily as breath into lungs. She left nothing behind, not a smear, not a drop, only the empty shell of his robes, which she slowly, delicately, settled back into place, ensuring not even a wrinkle was out of place.

Vivienne reformed herself within the fabric, stretching her fingers, adjusting the sleeves. The robes fit well enough.

She sighed. A fast meal. Hardly satisfying.

But she would feed properly soon.

She ignored Caelum’s gasp of horror, his sharp intake of breath as he took in the carnage she left in her wake. He was insignificant now.

Vivienne lunged toward the cage that held her daughter, her claws cutting through the metal bars like they were made of paper. They fell away with a grating clang, the remnants of her restraints crumbling at her feet.

Liora barely moved.

Vivienne’s heart clenched. Had she waited too long? Had they damaged her beyond repair? No. No, she wouldn’t allow that.

She reached in with trembling hands, pulling Liora’s limp form into her arms, cradling her close. A fierce, unrelenting warmth surged through her chest, drowning out everything else.

“Mijita,” she breathed, pressing her lips against the girl’s tangled hair. “My baby girl.”

Liora didn’t respond, her small body unnervingly still, her eyes staring into the distance.

Vivienne held her tighter, her claws pressing gently into her back, as if anchoring her to the world. Her voice cracked as she whispered, “I’m so sorry. So, so sorry that I took so long.”

She rocked her daughter slightly, as if the motion alone could undo the suffering she had endured. As if it could erase the horrors of this wretched place.

Her rage had never been so quiet, so suffocating.

She would burn this place to the ground.

Caelum’s voice faltered, though he tried to keep it steady. “This... this is your daughter?”

Vivienne nodded, her gaze never leaving her child. Liora’s eyes were empty, staring into the void as if she were already lost somewhere far away. Vivienne’s fingers curled around the girl, her touch tender yet firm, as if to remind herself that her daughter was still here, still alive.

“Yes,” she whispered, the word feeling like a vow, a promise. “And for what they have done to her—” She paused, her voice thick with the fury of a thousand tortured souls. “I will slaughter every member of the church. I swear it upon my soul. There will be no safety, no haven, nowhere they can run”

Her breath hitched as she spoke, the heat of her words seeping through her body, burning her from the inside out. “I will rend their flesh from their bones. Force them to watch me eat anyone they love, anyone they ever knew. Right in front of them. Slowly, so slowly, until they beg for mercy.”

Her entire being quivered with the intensity of her rage. The fury of countless wrongs, the pain of watching her daughter suffer, the years of patience spent waiting, were all culminating in a single moment.

She spun on Caelum, her eyes like wildfire, a firestorm threatening to devour anything in its path. Her voice dropped into a low growl, her hunger for revenge clear. “And mercy will never come.”

Vivienne's heart pounded in her chest as she whipped her head toward the corner, her sharp eyes catching the shifting shadows. The faintest movement, a twitch, like something had disturbed the stillness. And then, stepping out of the dark, a figure emerged—familiar, yet out of place in this hellish, ruined place.

“Renzia?” Vivienne’s voice caught in surprise.

The mannequin's head tilted in its characteristic way as she straightened up, her movements smooth despite the stiff, lifeless nature of her body. With a deliberate bow, Renzia answered in her broken, stilted speech. "Miss-tress."

Vivienne's brow furrowed deeply as she tried to process the sight of Renzia here. "What are you doing here?" she demanded, her voice tight with emotion.

Renzia's expression remained as blank and impassive as ever, though the subtle shift in her posture spoke volumes—there was something more fragile about her than usual, something that made Vivienne’s gut twist with sudden understanding. “Protect-ing the young miss-tress. Not let her die.”

The words stung like ice-cold water to the face. Vivienne’s chest tightened, and her breath became shallow. Her fists clenched involuntarily. Protecting? Not letting her die? The audacity of it. Her daughter, Liora—her daughter—had been here, suffering for gods knew how long, and Renzia was standing in front of her, calm, collected, like nothing had changed.

Vivienne’s voice wavered with anger as she spat the words out, the pent-up rage finally breaking through. “Why didn’t you take her from this place then?!”

Renzia froze, her body going stiff for the briefest of moments, before she dropped her gaze. Her head lowered, as if the weight of Vivienne’s words had struck her harder than any blow. There was a flicker in her dark eyes—a glimmer of something that might have been shame, though it was difficult to tell with Renzia’s blank, featureless face. "Not str-ong enough. Watch. Wait. Make sure they do not kill the you-ng miss-tress."

Vivienne's fists were shaking now, her chest tight with the combination of helplessness and fury. Not strong enough? She’d never seen Renzia falter before. Never. And yet here she was, admitting that she hadn’t been able to do anything to save Liora when it mattered most.

“Not strong enough?” Vivienne’s voice was low but fierce. Her transformation slipped and she shifted to her more monstrous form. Her tail twitched agitatedly behind her, the obsidian scales reflecting the dim light. “You could have tried. You could have done something. Instead, you watched. You waited. All this time!”

The silence stretched between them, Renzia’s form standing perfectly still, her hands at her sides, her blank expression giving nothing away. Vivienne’s eyes burned, not just with anger but with a deep, gnawing hurt. She had been alone in this nightmare. Alone in a place she couldn’t escape, and all the while, Renzia had been right here, able to act but choosing not to.

It was the wrong question, Vivienne realized too late—why didn’t you save her?—because it wasn’t about that at all. It was about the terrible, cruel reality that Renzia wasn’t the savior Vivienne had hoped for. She wasn’t the one who could protect them. That responsibility had always been on Vivienne’s shoulders, even when she wasn’t sure if she could carry it anymore.

“Whatever.” She said with a frustrated sigh. Perhaps it wasn’t fair to take out all her anger on Renzia. The doll wasn’t exactly the brightest, so she couldn’t expect her to do too much past a few simple orders. The fact she was here at all was a testament to how far the mannequin had come.

“Come along then. We are leaving this place.” She turned to Caelum. “Boy, lead the way out. Now.” Her voice was low, dripping with the force of her command. She didn’t care for his second-guessing. He had been useful so far, but his caution would only slow them down now. Liora needed to be out of this place. She needed to be safe.

Caelum nodded nervously, throwing a glance at Renzia but saying nothing more. Vivienne saw the way his eyes darted to every corner, every shadow, as though expecting something to leap out at him. She didn’t mind his fear—it kept him sharp, kept him from being a liability.

They reached a point in the hall, and then he stopped, scanning the area before them. “I came in through the front. There may be other exits. It might be prudent if we try and find one.”

Vivienne’s lip curled into a sneer. The boy’s hesitation was grating on her nerves. But he was right about one thing—they couldn’t go the way they came. She had no intention of risking another encounter with the church’s forces. But there was no time to be lost in searching either. Her gaze moved to Liora in her arms, her daughter’s weight comforting, but her stillness unsettling. The girl needed to get out of here. She couldn’t waste a moment more.

“We do not have time for that, but you might be correct,” Vivienne muttered, her sharp mind already spinning with a solution. There was a quicker way out, one that would keep them from wasting time and losing their advantage.

Her eyes flicked back to Caelum as she made her decision. “I have a better idea.”

Before Caelum could ask, she shifted Liora carefully, holding the child against her chest before handing her over to him. She ignored the slight discomfort in Liora’s stiff, tired body, knowing her daughter would be too despondent to protest right now. Caelum stared at her with wide eyes, but he didn’t argue. He was smart enough not to.

“Hold my daughter,” Vivienne demanded, her voice cold and commanding.

Caelum blinked at her, clearly caught off guard. “What?”

Vivienne’s gaze hardened. “I am trusting you with the most important person to me in this accursed world. Do not betray that trust.” Her voice dropped dangerously low. “If you do, you will regret it.”

For a moment, the boy’s face flickered with uncertainty, but he nodded slowly, cradling Liora against his chest with careful hands. Vivienne’s heart clenched at the sight, but she shoved that feeling aside. This was no time for weakness. She could trust him for now, and that had to be enough.

“I can hold the you-ng miss-tress.” Said Renzia.

Vivienne shot her a look. “I am still mad. I don’t know if it’s warranted right now.”

The Mannequin bowed. “I am so-rry miss-tress.”

Vivienne bit her tongue and stepped back, ready to carry out her part of the plan. “I am going to find all exits and purge anything with a pulse down here.” Her voice was firm, filled with the resolve of a mother who would stop at nothing to ensure her daughter’s safety. There would be no more waiting. No more mercy. The church would pay for what it had done.

Vivienne’s form pulsed and rippled as she shed the shape of her body, morphing into a formless mass. The air grew thick with her presence as she expanded in all directions, her body swelling like a flood. The mass around Renzia, Caelum and Liora remained untouched, a tiny bubble of protection that would keep them safe from her relentless spread. She wasn’t concerned about them; they had their own role to play now.

The corridors, long and narrow, seemed to shrink in her presence. Her tendrils slithered along the stone, curling through cracks and gaps, filling the walls with her essence. Her senses were stretched, a web of sensation expanding throughout the facility, feeling every structure, every texture of the earth that had been carved and built to house this abomination.

As she flooded through the halls, she could taste the air—the stale scent of fear, sweat, and stale food lingering from the broken bodies of the people who had been here. She could hear the faintest tremors of life—the erratic heartbeats, the shallow breathing, the hushed whispers of those still hidden from her gaze. It didn’t matter. One by one, they would be consumed, every last one of them.

Her senses reached farther, weaving through the very bones of the building. She could feel the labyrinth of passages stretching beneath her, the pulse of every living thing within. The power surged through her, rippling from her core and out, finding every path, every crack in the foundation. It didn’t take long for her to pinpoint them, the four other exits hidden within the structure.

One was in the east wing, the air thick with the faint trace of magic, a ward still active around it. Another was near the lower levels, guarded, but weakly so. The third led toward the southern end, barely known to anyone save those who had been working in secret. And the last one—this one nearly broke her concentration—was hidden deep within the building, beneath layers of reinforced stone. It was clearly a failsafe, a desperate effort to keep something—or someone—locked away, but it was there. And it would be hers.

As she continued to expand and consume, the hunger grew. The scent of flesh, warm and tender, coursed through the mass of her being. Each soul she absorbed was a melody of flavors—some sweeter than others, a delicate balance of life and power, their essence merging with her own. The blood and fear were intoxicating, rich in their own right, but it was the flesh itself that soothed the gnawing hunger that had clawed at her for far too long.

Her tendrils reached into the hallways, sweeping through each room with surgical precision. One by one, the survivors were claimed. She didn’t need to be precise, didn’t need to enjoy the taste—they were simply fuel for what was to come. The first man, his panicked breath rising, didn’t even have time to scream before her tendrils wrapped around him, drawing him into the void. The second was a woman, her throat slit before she even realized what was happening. The third, a young priest, tried to run, but he was no match for the force she commanded.

Each bite filled her with strength, with clarity, the very power of the facility being devoured by her ravenous form. There was no resistance here, no fight. Just the soft, delicious submission of those too weak to flee, too slow to avoid their inevitable end. The crunch of bone, the rich warmth of muscle breaking apart in her jaws, the sweet pulse of a heartbeat snuffed out in an instant—it was everything she had craved, everything she had been denied.

In a matter of minutes, she had taken down a dozen of them—some as weak as children, others as strong as soldiers, but all delicious in their own way. The taste was a symphony in her senses, an intoxicating, euphoric rush that she could hardly control. She could feel the building shift beneath her, its structures trembling as she laid waste to it from within, the very heart of this place cracking under her pressure.

And still, she fed. She couldn’t stop. It had been too long since she had tasted the delights of flesh, the simple, primal joy of taking what she needed.

Vivienne withdrew from the facility in an instant, her body unraveling from the endless mass she had become. It slithered back, pulling in every tendril, every writhing limb, until she coalesced into something small, something human once more. The illusion of Priestess Uuna settled over her like a second skin, her stolen robes settling neatly around her form. She smoothed out the fabric with a lazy motion, brushing away imaginary dust before turning to Caelum.

The young champion still stood there, stiff as a corpse, his hazel eyes glassy with shock. His hands trembled slightly, as if his mind was still processing what he had just witnessed—the horror of it, the sheer impossibility.

Vivienne ignored his state entirely, stepping forward to pluck her daughter from his arms. The moment Liora was against her chest once more, the tension in her body lessened, her grip firm but protective. Mine. 

“Everyone else in this place has been eaten,” she said, her voice smooth, as if remarking on the weather. “Also about twenty aetherbeasts. What were they doing with them down here?”

Caelum blinked, shaking his head as if trying to clear it. He swallowed hard before speaking. “I’ll explain when we get out.” His voice was hoarse, raw. He hesitated before asking, “Where’s the best exit?”

Vivienne tilted her head slightly, considering him for a moment. He was regaining his composure faster than she expected. Good. He would need it.

“Follow.”

She turned without another word, the hem of her borrowed robes swirling around her ankles as she strode forward. Her steps were confident, precise. The newborn champion fell in line behind her without question, his breath quick but steady.

The facility was utterly silent. Gone were the hushed voices of clergy, the sharp orders of guards, the distant rustling of caged creatures. The air was thick with the lingering scent of aether and blood, but not a single soul remained. Only the discarded remnants of those who had once occupied this place—equipment, torn garments, weapons stripped of their owners.

Vivienne led them down a level, her path direct and unerring. Her knowledge of the layout was absolute now, burned into her senses from the moment she had filled every crevice of this wretched place. The only sounds were their measured footsteps and Caelum’s steadying breaths.

They reached a thick iron door, its heavy lock still intact. Not for long. Without breaking stride, Vivienne extended a single claw and sliced through the mechanism with ease, the metal giving way like softened wax. She gripped the handle and swung the door open with one hand.

Cool night air washed over them, carrying with it the crisp scent of stone and the faint traces of life beyond these walls. Above them, two of Nymoria’s moons hung in the sky, their pale glow casting long shadows against the cobbled streets in the distance.

Vivienne stepped forward, inhaling deeply.

They stood in a small, wild, untamed part of the city. There were trees and brushes, likely to hide this entrance. The city sprawled beyond it, a vast expanse of wood and stone. It was massive—impressive, by the standards of this world. Buildings stretched high, roads twisted and wound in intricate patterns, a thousand lives bustling within its walls. Compared to what she had seen in her past life, it was nothing, but for this world it was impressive.

She stepped into the small, untamed clearing, trees and plants surrounded them, breaking some of the sightline into the lower city. Good, she wanted to remain unseen.

Vivienne barely spared Caelum a glance as she adjusted her grip on Liora. The girl was quiet, but her warmth against Vivienne’s chest was a comfort. More than anything, she needed to get her somewhere safe—away from the scent of blood, the memories of metal bars, the cold grasp of suffering.

“Well?” She finally said, her voice light, unbothered. “Let’s get out of this city.”

Caelum nodded, still looking as though his mind hadn’t quite caught up with the night’s events. “Right. I can go through the gate come sunrise. What about you? How are you getting over the wall”

“I’ll climb over it.” Vivienne’s voice was even, but beneath it, fury burned. The mere thought of walking through the same gates these people used, of pretending to be one of them—it made her sick. She would rather tear the walls down with her teeth than play the part of something civilized.

Caelum hesitated. “Where will we meet afterwards?”

A laugh tore from Vivienne’s throat, sharp and mocking. “You want to meet up with me again? Why?” She tilted her head, black eyes gleaming with amusement. “I don’t need you anymore.”

Caelum frowned, his golden-hazel eyes darkening. “I was tasked with rescuing you. As far as I’m concerned, you aren’t quite rescued yet.”

Vivienne snorted, stroking Liora’s tangled hair with a gentleness that contrasted her tone. She placed a lingering kiss on her daughter’s forehead, her lips barely brushing the girl’s skin. “I was already preparing to escape, if you hadn’t come along.”

He stiffened but pressed on. “We both want to stop the church and their vile misdeeds. We can work together!”

Vivienne stilled, considering him for the first time. More allies would be useful. Necessary, even. Especially after—

She clenched her jaw, unwilling to let herself finish the thought.

After losing Rava.

The pain flared, sharp and raw, but she buried it. Now was not the time.

“I don’t care about their misdeeds,” she said at last, her voice cold. “I just want them dead for what they’ve done to me and mine.” Her lips curled into a cruel smile, her needle-like teeth on full display. “You do understand what I am, don’t you, boy? I eat what I kill. I never waste a morsel if I can help it.”

Caelum swallowed hard. His fingers twitched slightly, but he didn’t step back. That, at least, earned him a sliver of respect.

“M-my goddess wanted me to save you,” he said, voice steadier than before. “Then work with you. I can… put my feelings aside about that. For the greater good.”

Vivienne chuckled, humorless. “That sort of attitude would serve you well in Serkoth.”

His brows lifted in surprise. “You’ve been to Serkoth?”

She nodded, her expression unreadable. “I have. My…” she hesitated, then forced the words out, “late lover was from there.”

Caelum’s face softened, his lips parting as if to offer some feeble condolence.

Vivienne cut him off before he could.

“Don’t.” Her voice was sharp, final. 

He pursed his lips, nodding stiffly. “ I want to travel to Serkoth too. I have friends who hopefully made it there. Please, let me travel with you.”

“Fine,” Vivienne said, her tone light, almost playful. “We can work together for now. I won’t eat you yet, morsel.”

With that, she turned on her heel and strode toward the city proper, Liora nestled safely in her arms. Renzia and Caelum followed, his footsteps slightly uneven, as if he were still processing everything.

Vivienne didn’t slow down for him. The city sprawled ahead, a maze of narrow alleys and towering stone structures, the air thick with the scent of burning oil and the distant hum of late-night activity. She needed to move quickly. The sooner she could get out of this wretched place, the better.

Behind her, Caelum frowned, deep in thought. “Actually,” he said after a few moments, his voice careful, measured. “My goddess told me something that might be of interest to you.”

Vivienne didn’t bother looking back. “Yes?” she asked curtly, more focused on scanning the streets ahead. There were few people out at this time

Caelum hesitated, then said, “Does the name Kivvy mean anything to you?”